#its gotta be Mild and Gentle

[sanchoyo]

my dog turned 14 the other day!!! 14 years old in human years... I've had him since he was a pubby and hes 14... woaw....🥺

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI 

Labor of Love - Part II

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: zero smut, angst angst angst, mention of past trauma, expletives, pregnancy, contractions, heavily described labour, blood, mild physical violence, reader is really going through it, ralak is too but he'll be alright i promise, brother!neteyam makes a star appearance, cute family fluff, let me know if i forgot anything

Word Count: 6.5k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Hope you're enjoying your tour in angst town...we're almost finished. You could say we're nearing the final attraction, so continue to keep your seatbelts buckled. lol why am i like this? anyways... please don't hate me for this chapter, and i will try my best to get the next one out quicker so you guys can get some closure lool :)

Synopsis: You didn't plan for things to turn out this way. But no amount of denial can make reality go away...

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And when Ralak sees it, he almost caves in on himself. His mask of indifference—of intimidation, cracks. Hell, it shatters. Into thousands of pieces, scattered at his feet. Tonowari’s previous right hand. The banished.  His karyu.

Time chips by at a torturous pace. You spend the first hour sitting on the beach, eating some fruit whilst watching what your brothers get up to. Neteyam, of course, is bearing most of the responsibility whilst Lo’ak and Tuk are taking a more easy approach to the day. Mom and dad made sure to leave them with a list of things to get done whilst they’re away—number one being to keep an eye on their sisters. 

Number one, check. 

All that floods your mind is your mate and if he’s okay. You try to process everything he’s said but it’s all too much to wrap your head around. All too new. Your brothers aren’t much help either, as they claim to be ‘out the loop’ as much as you are. You know it's bullshit, and probably just another thing that they’ve been ordered to keep from you so as not to ‘stress you out’. 

Regardless, it’s all you can think about. 

Until you feel your son do a flip in your womb, big enough to make you gasp. Your hands immediately fly to your belly, feeling around to gauge his position. A pressure begins to grow against your bladder. One so intense it presses into your tailbone too. The pads of your fingers sink into the skin, tapping around as you make out a leg, then a knee. A hand to the left. 

Is he…head down? You think to yourself. 

“Everything alright?” Neteyam asks, concern wrinkling his forehead.  

“Hm?” You look up, seeing the outline of his silhouette in front of the sun. 

“You okay? You’re…you look a little—”

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. He’s moving a lot today.” You smile, catching Tuk excitedly running over in the corner of your eye. 

“Really? Can I feel? Please?” She squeals excitedly, falling to her knees in the sand next to you. 

“Of course, Tuk.” You smile, and place her hand on top of your stomach, right where his foot is. Only a few seconds pass by until your son gives Tuk a strong kick, making her mouth open with glee. 

“Wow! Tey, you gotta feel this!” Tuk exclaims, tugging your brother by the hand so he’s next to you too. Neteyam looks at you, unsure if you’re okay with it. You nod with a gentle smile, tugging his hand over to the other side of your stomach. His hand hovers as he hesitates for a moment, this is his first time feeling his nephew move. He gives you a final look, and gently rests his hand on your belly

A few moments pass and nothing. 

“Aww, he stopped moving.” Tuk sighs with a pout. 

“Patience, Tuk.” You whisper, feeling him kick on cue. Her face lights up with a beaming smile and Neteyam seems to be in awe with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. 

“Woah, y/n. Your tummy’s getting hard.” Tuk says innocently, looking at her brother to see if he feels it too. 

“Hm?” You hum, feeling a bit spaced out and achy.   

“It is.” Neteyam lets go and keeps his hands to himself, feeling like he’s invading your personal space. A heat floods your back, and you feel your thighs spasm. You begin to groan, holding your breath until the strange feeling subsides. “Hey. You okay?” 

You nod, finally release your breath, and hear Tuk’s excited voice. “It’s all soft now!” 

“All good.” You smile, but Neteyam doesn’t seem convinced at all. “Ronal says they are normal. They aren’t the real thing. Mom had them with Tuk, remember?” 

Neteyams' features soften as he nods, prying his little sister's hands off of you. “Ease up now, Tuk.” 

“Sorry, sis.” She says quietly, ears laying flat to her head. 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” You say as you roll to your side to get up, shamelessly using Neteyam to gain some momentum. “Think it’s time for me to take a walk, though.” 

“Yes, sure. Where are we going?” Neteyam asks, ready to accompany you anywhere.

“I’m going down to the rocks.” You emphasise on the first word, making it clear you need some alone time after being babysat all day. “I think Lo’ak needs some help with the net.”

Neteyam and Tuk look over to see their brother struggling with a tangled fishing net, and turn back to see that you’re already waddling down the beach. 

——

Suddenly, Ralak’s back inside of his family marui pod on his iknimaya night. Trapped. Small. Powerless. Cornered by a person he once looked up to. A person he trusted. Manipulated by her heat— her pheromones. A crime punishable by banishment. Forced to give, forced to receive. A betrayal he’ll never forget. A face he swore to himself that he would never see again. 

No wonder they ‘demanded’ his presence.

Tonowari and Ronal lose their colour when their eyes land on her. It’s been so many years. They quickly look over to Ralak, who is seemingly falling to pieces where he stands. The expression on his face is no short of pure shock and… terror. Truthfully, the last time they’d seen such an expression on his face was the deaths of his parents and spirit brother. Jake and Neytiri aren’t aware of what’s going on, but they know it must be serious for Ralak to be so…expressive. 

They can even see his shoulders heave from how hard he’s breathing, and how his face of terror quickly morphs into something of fury. Tonowari notices the way he tightens his grip on his weapon, and his eyes as they gloss over red with rage. It takes a lot to make this man blind with anger. Tonowari knows if he doesn't step in now that this could turn sour in the blink of an eye. 

——

Two.

Releasing a shaky exhale, you begin your walk back to your siblings. That was the second ‘practice’ contraction you’ve had since starting your walk, and your third since coming here with your brothers. Your waddle is becoming more sluggish with each step and the fire in your back is beginning to burn hotter rather than fade out. 

“Not now, little one.” You whisper as you caress your bump. “…please.” 

Weariness sets in as you make it halfway back, making you perch on your knees to take a break. The fire spreads from your back to your thighs, and up your stomach. You brace yourself for the tight feeling, holding your breath in the base of your chest. You grumble a little, swaying side to side until it passes, which thankfully doesn’t take more than a few seconds. 

Three.

Finally making it back to the beach, you see Neteyam and Lo’ak hauling a few sacks on their backs, with Tuk skipping behind them. You overhear Lo’ak trying to convince Neteyam to let him be with the other warriors, and Neteyam reminding him of your parents orders. They stop mid sentence when they hear your heavy, muffled footsteps, taking one look at you and knowing that something isn’t right. Lo’ak in particular, to your surprise. 

“Damn. You look exhausted.” Lo’ak says, earning a jab in the rib by Neteyams elbow. “What? She looks like she’s about to pass out.” 

“You can’t say that to a pregnant woman, skxawng [idiot].” Neteyam hisses.

“It’s fine. He’s not wrong.” You say, tail dragging low and heavy behind you. Ralak still clouds your mind, and you’re eager to know if he’s back yet. “I want to go home now. I really need to lie down.” 

Neteyam just nods, understanding that something deeper is going on. “I will take you.” 

“I got it, bro.” Lo’ak interjects, plunking the sack off his back and onto the ground.  

“Stay with Tuk.” Neteyam orders, clicking for his skimwing. 

“Why don’t you stay with Tuk?” Lo’ak snaps back. 

“Guys. Please?” You sigh, waddling towards the winged beast, throwing a leg over its tough back. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Come ‘teyam.” Neteyam smirks, making the bond with the beast and mounting it in one swift move. 

As you arrive at your marui, you see Zu’té at the outside fire pit, concentrating on not burning yet another type of meat-on-a-stick. Hearing your arrival, Zu’té turns and acknowledges your presence. He puts down the sizzling meat on a leaf, allowing the fire to continue to burn as he begins to make his way over to collect you. Neteyam and him exchange glances and silent greetings, and suddenly the air is thick. 

“Right…I’m going up. Thank you, tey. See you.” You say out of breath, giving him a quick hug.

“Let me—” Neteyam begins.

“No, I’m okay.” You cut off your brother, hualing yourself off the tsurak. 

“Right. Kìyevame [see you again soon]. If you need me, send your watchdog.” He speaks clearly, holding you by the wrist to steady you as you get off. 

“I will, tey.” You chuckle lightly and make your way to the marui. Neteyam waits patiently, making sure you get in safely. 

Zu’té is only half way there when you reach the bottom step, already offering his arm for the stairs. You sigh and shake your head, hurriedly climbing the stairs as fast as your swollen ankles will allow it. For some reason, his gesture really annoys you. Your mood is off and you feel queasy and achy—like your entire body is throbbing. 

All you want is for everyone around you to stop babying you, and let you be alone for the rest of the day. 

“I got it.” Your voice strains as you wobble ahead, leaving Zu’té and your brother behind. Neteyam remains silent for some time, locking eyes with Zu’té. 

‘Keep a close eye.’ Neteyam signs with disquiet wrinkling his forehead. Zu’té gives him a puzzled look at first, but slowly nods when he successfully deciphers the message. Neteyam nods as well and dives underwater. 

By the time Zu’té gets to the bottom step, you’re already at the top, clutching onto the railing as you lean forward in pain. You couldn’t even make it into the pod without another hitting you so soon. You take a few deep breaths rather than holding it in, waiting until the tight feeling subsides. 

Four.

Zu’té darts up the stairs to your side, offering a hand in support only to be swatted away. “What is it?”

“It is nothing.” You catch your breath and insist that it was nothing—because it was nothing, right?

His brows furrow in disbelief, a look of concern washing over his face. Zu’té allows his eyes to fall to your bulging, veiny belly for the first time, taking in the sight. “You were in pain.”

“I’m fine.” You’re short with him, stony eyes staring into his.

“Someone once told me no good comes from pretending that things don’t hurt.” 

“Well nothing’s happening until my husband is back. Okay?” You try to remain nonchalant, to believe your own words. 

He simply stares down at you for a bit, analysing your facial expression. Despite your stone cold facade, he can easily  see the fear etched into your features. Fear that this baby may come before Ralaks return and that if you allow yourself to accept reality, then it may really come true. He glances down at your hand still stuck to the side of your stomach and swallows, looking back up to you. 

“Understood.” 

“Right. Now...” You huff, contemplating if you should say what you want to say. You feel like telling him to back off—to give you some space. But he’s obviously just making sure you’re okay. “...I need to lie down. Just, keep an eye out for—” 

“My brother? Sure. Rest well.” 

——

“Ay’ana.” 

The Olo’eyktan lets out a lengthy growl, earning a look from the traitor herself. 

“Waari.” She sings with a grin, shifting her leer to his mate behind him. “Ronal.” Her eyes fall to her swollen belly, “You are expecting…again.” 

It wasn’t a, ‘congratulations’ either, no. But rather a ‘I see that you are the most vulnerable.’

Ronal scowls, hissing through her teeth. Tonowari steps in front of his mate, blocking her from Ay’ana’s view. 

It was one thing to commit kawngkem [a crime; evil deed] and be banished for it, but it’s another to seek uturu with the enemy. She is no longer considered to be among the ‘banished’, but is now the ‘enemy’. 

Ay’ana looks behind Tonowari, not at Ronal, but at the two deeper skinned, slender na’vis. She scoffs, the corner of her mouth pulling into an evil smirk, revealing her sharpened teeth. Tonowaris eyes widen when he sees that she’s completely adapted to this vile peoples’ ways by putting a file to her teeth. Her eyes flick past them to the last person, the most important. 

“Ralak.” She slowly moans his name as she peers up at him with sultry eyes, allowing her tongue to glaze over her canines. “Such a pleasure.” Ralak winces, chest heaving violently as it fills with repulsion and loathing. “Ah. I remember you being quiet, but not this quiet. Nothing to say to your karyu?”

——

A couple hours have passed and the pain is enough to disrupt your rest. The sunlight dulls with each passing minute, casting a familiar orange hue into the marui. It comes in waves, rippling through you like a bolt of lightning striking the tallest tree in the forest. Making it hard to tell yourself that things are okay—making it hard to keep things quiet. 

“Agh!” You groan suddenly, feeling another jolt of electricity shoot up your spine. It stops you in your tracks, the tracks you’ve been burning into the floor with your constant, nervous pacing. You quiet down into a whisper, “...please wait for your sempu [daddy], my child.” 

“You—uhm.” You hear Zu’té clear his throat at the door, projecting his voice so that you can hear him through the curtain, “You alright in there?”

“Mmn—yes! Fine.” You grate out, making your way back to the bed to lie down. Your feet are so sore.

“Hungry?” He asks, food in hand in the case you were. 

“‘m not.” You try to speak up, but you’re still in the height of the contraction. 

He grits his teeth, leaning into the frame of the marui door. “I didn’t burn it this time.” 

You wish you could laugh, but you can’t even muster up the strength to raise your voice.

Zu’té lingers at the door quietly, knowing plain as day that you weren’t okay. “...what about water?” 

“No...I’ve got.” You say at a normal volume, finally released from the constraints of your pain. 

You begin closing your eyes in hopes that sleep may find you, even if it's just for a few minutes. Zu’té remains at the door for a moment longer, feeling so helpless and useless. He sinks back to the floor, putting down the meat and picking up a new, special piece to weave. 

Weaving passed the time, distracting him from the tiny sounds that managed to escape your mouth. 

Until night fell, and those tiny sounds morphed into deep, lengthy groans and high pitched wails. 

——

“Let us begin.” Tonowari speaks over Ay’ana, averting all attention back to their leader, another female that goes by the name of ‘Varang’. 

She’s almost grey in colour, embellished with a red headpiece that resembles something of an ikrans wings. Her eyes narrow as she looks straight at Tonowari, standing close to his height. 

“Let us.” She hisses with a smile, leading Tonowari to a smaller, private room sectioned by a leather curtain. She motions to Ay’ana to accompany her, leaving the rest of her men to stay with the others. Tonowari lets out a soft grunt, and grits his teeth. He knows he must choose, but his mate is heavy with child and Jake has no interest in leaving his mate in such a place alone. Therefore, he must choose his right hand—Ralak. He motions with a quick tilt of his head, prompting Ralak to clutch his weapon close to his chest and follow closely behind. 

——

“Y/n.” Zu’té’s at the curtain again, half considering to pull it back and come in on his own terms. But he would never invade your privacy like that. And by the sounds of it, things are picking up. “Do you need the healer?”

“No!” You shout out of breath, wobbling to the door with a hand clutching your stomach. You lean all your weight against the wall, knowing he’s on the other side waiting. “No healer.” 

You’re drenched in sweat, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. He hears your back slide against the surface, and he mirrors your movements, sitting on the floor too. Only a wall sits between your backs, separating you two. 

“You’re in labour.” Zu’té speaks, his poor attempt at urging you to face reality.

You know that. Of course you know that. But you don’t want it to be true—you didn’t expect it to happen this way—you didnt want it to happen this way. You take a few deep breaths, concentrating on breathing through the remainder of this horrible feeling. And when it’s finally over, you rest your head against the wall and close your eyes—leaving silence to fill the air. 

Where are you, Ralak? 

——

The room is much smaller than the one they were in, equipped with some sort of table or workbench with a few spears and bows mounted on the wall. Ralak stands quietly behind Tonowari, as does Ay’ana to Varang. 

As they negotiate the terms of the treaty, Ay’ana keeps her eyes locked onto Ralak with a smug look on her face. Her hungry eyes wander, shamelessly taking in every inch of the man before her, surprised by how much he has changed. He’s much bigger, more filled out in his warrior attire. His muscles—more defined, thicker. His skin—calloused and scarred. Inked, unlike before.

And as her eyes trail down the line between his abs they lay upon the six stripes that peak out over the band of his loincloth. Her eyes widen and glisten with greed before darting back up to his face, meeting his eyes that bore into her fearlessly. 

What’s worse is that she can see that his mind is elsewhere. 

That his mind runs on you. You’re all he’s been thinking about since he stepped off the reef. He feels deep in his heart that something isn’t right back home. That you need him. That perhaps, you’re calling for him right now, swollen and heavy with his child. 

And it bothers her. 

“It is decided, then.” Tonowari speaks in a confident tone.

“Yes, it is.” Varang’s smile is uncanny as she unsheaths a small, double edged knife from her hip. 

She grabs Tonowari by the hand, placing the blade in the middle of his palm, and closes his fingers around it. She rips it from his hand, drawing blood, and then hands Tonowari the knife and gives him her hand. He returns the unsettling act, slitting her palm. She keeps a smile on her face, locking hands with him until their blood combines and drips to their feet. 

Supposedly, it is a method of establishing some level of trust between the two. Where each has the ability to do much greater harm, but makes the deliberate choice not to. Then, when blood has been drawn, it is mixed by bringing the hands together, sealing the treaty. 

“Bound by blood.” Varang whispers, letting go of his hand to bring hers to her mouth for a taste. 

She sighs and smiles, popping a thumb in her mouth before gesturing to him that they leave. Tonowari fights the flinch on his face, disturbed by her behaviour. Ay’ana stays back, watching the two leaders exit the room. But as Ralak is about to leave behind Tonowari, Ay’ana calls for him. 

——

Another couple agonising hours pass, and you’re constantly changing positions in hopes of finding some relief. Desperation sets in, making you beg the great mother herself to guide you through this. To bring your mate back home. But there’s still no sign of his return. The night dew settles on all the surfaces around you. Pacing no longer helps, leaving you to take refuge in your bed, panting and shivering. 

No matter how much you twist and turn, your stomach only tightens more. Deep groans rip past your lips to cope with the feeling—the pain shooting through your core. Beads of sweat roll off your body at an alarming rate, soaking the sheets on your bed. You feel him move further down, his head now sitting plush in your pelvis, creating an immense pressure that’s almost unbearable. His feet press into your ribs, and with each strained breath you begin to yearn for your mate more and more. For his comforting touch. For the bond.  

“Ralak…” 

——

“Ralak.” She sings, making him stop dead in his tracks. “A word.” 

His ears tuck back and he looks at Tonowari, who gives him a begrudged nod. Ralak sighs and turns around, fixing his mask of indifference tightly to his face. He remains silent, his hand practically bonded to his spear. 

“Still tight lipped, hm? Come now, tak. That is no way to treat your karyu.” She speaks in a condescending tone, approaching him warily. 

Ralak nearly takes the bait, a heat growing in his chest so hot it makes his jaw tense. How dare she call herself that? To taint such a word? He swallows, taking a single, deep breath to recenter himself as he looks away from her. 

“I have to admit.” She steps towards him, the crown of her head meeting the bow of his shoulder. “You have grown into a fine man. You are taller than me now.”  

Ralak just looks down at her, still as stone, his mind consumed with the fact that he could be on his way home to you but this…vile creature is keeping him away. But he will do what he needs to keep you safe, even if it means to tolerate this for the time being. 

With no reaction, Ay’ana grows frustrated and begins circling him, a single finger tracing around his body. 

“You know…My body still yearns for you.” She speaks with a sultry voice, stopping at his side and bringing herself to the tips of her toes to whisper in his ear, “...especially when I’m in heat.”

For a second, Ralak succumbs to her tactics, the ones she used to use on him years ago. A memory, forcibly resurfaced, reminding him of the way she whispered in his ear on that night. It makes him feel so small. Impotent. But only for a second. Ralak recoils, stepping back to create distance between them. He towers over her, dwarfing this small, lanky woman, regaining his confidence and power. 

“Is that all?” He growls, looking her dead in the eye—facing his past with no fear. 

Facing the reason why he lived in a bottle before he met you. You. You. He can feel you. He can feel you yearn for him and he’s ready to come home to you. For this to be over. 

He’s too focused on you to even notice Ay’ana’s face of shock. Shock to know that she’s been releasing her pheromones this entire time and he’s been completely oblivious to them. Which only means one thing. 

“You’re mated.” She gasps. 

And he’s back. 

Staring at a mirror now that he is, too, in a state of shock. Ralak’s heart leaps out his chest, beating so hard that Ay’ana can hear it. How could she know that? He watches as a grin spreads across her face, ear to ear. She knows she’s got him now, despite the jealousy bubbling inside her. She could use this to her advantage—it didn’t matter to her that he’s called for, after all. 

“Using tsaheylu for such useless things.” She bellows a wicked laugh, which fades out when she sees an even more serious look on his face. A look that tells her he’s trying to mask something more, something deeper. “Oh? Is there more to it?” The twitch of his brows and quick flare to his nostrils reveals the truth. “I have to know. What is it, hm?” She nears him once more, two fingers walking up his chest. “Come now, you were never this hard to read.” 

Ralak remains silent, focusing on slowing his heart rate. 

“Is she ill?” She asks as she searches his eyes, fingers grazing across his quivering jawbone. “No, no. It’s not that.” She sighs, stepping closer and closer until his back hits the wall. He moves his head away from her touch, still looking her in the eye—refusing to be the first to break eye contact. Her eyes light up and her ears stand tall.

“She carries your child, doesn’t she?” Her eyes gloss over green with envy. “Pregnant.”

Ralak swallows his spit, the lump in the column of his throat quickly undulating. 

“There it is. I knew you would make strong babies.” Her hand slips down his chest, slithering over his abs and down to the twine of his loincloth, causing him to jolt. “Ralak.” She moans his name slowly, “Oh, Ralak. The last I see of you, you were barely covered in this vile ink with no one at your side…and now you are mated and a father to be.” Her fingers tickle the raised skin on his most intimate tattoo. “I have always longed to be bred by you.” Her fingers attempt to burrow themselves under the band of his loincloth.

“Enough.” He lets out a deep growl, shoving her away, dropping his weapon in doing so. She loses and quickly regains her balance in a few seconds, throwing herself on him. He grabs her by the wrists, restraining her with ease so that she can’t come any closer to him. 

“Perhaps we need to renegotiate the terms so that you are a part of them, yes?” Her voice is full of desperation, trembling as she strains against him. “How does that sound numeyu? You know we have a population problem, right? We could all use you.”

“I have no interest in being your stud.” Ralak spits, forcefully shoving her away, causing her to stumble back and for her head to hit the table. 

He moves quickly, picking up his spear off the ground and heading for the door. She lunges at him, dagger unsheathed from her hip and armed in her hand, whilst her other arm snakes around his throat to pull him onto the ground. 

During the struggle, Ralak drags her off his back, resulting in a nasty gash from his collarbone and down his shoulder blade. He hisses from the burn, instantly assuming an offensive stance to plunge his spear through. Ay’ana returns the hiss, crouching with her bloodied dagger ready to strike.  

“I will kill you.” Ralak threatens, nearing the pointed tip closer and closer to her chest. “And I will take great joy in doing so.”  

“Is that right?” Ay’ana hisses, tail wagging in excitement with unsettling smile spread across her face. She looks as if she’s toying with him. As if she’s playing a game and she’s winning. “Let me have a taste of you.” 

“Nìtam! [Enough!]” Tonowari roars as he yanks back the curtain, instantly averting Ay’ana’s attention to him. Perhaps it was her roots calling her to respond to her true leader. Varang appears beside him with a scowl stained on her face, displeased with her subordinate. One more move and the treaty would’ve already been broken. 

“Easy, Tak.” Tonowari murmurs, and Ralak relaxes into position next to him, blood trickling down his chest and back. 

“Come with me.” Varang snarls at Ay’ana, seizing her by the queue.

“Night has fallen. We will take our leave.” Tonowari speaks roughly, trying his hardest to contain his anger as he rests a careful hand resting on Ralak—leading him out the room.

“In another ten years, Olo’eyktan.”

Tonowari grunts as he and the rest push past the swarming ash people. As soon as they’re far enough, he stops Ralak and has Ronal safely look at his wound. It’s weeping and open, prone to a nasty infection if not dressed immediately. She unclasps her medicine pouch from her hip, and retrieves a small bottle of iridescent liquid, a viscous concoction of herbs, and a needle and thread.

“Come, son.” Tonowari speaks softly, ripping the cork from the small bottle with his back teeth and spitting it on the ground. “That vonvä’.”

Ralak sits on the nearest rock, elbows propped on his knees and head hung low to hide his face. Jake and Neytiri observe in silence, cringing as Tonowari douses the gash with the liquid as Ronal prepares the needle and thread. 

Ralak groans, biting down tooth on tooth. 

Tonowari leaves a little left in the bottle, offering it to Ralak who is visibly trying to keep it together. He plucks the bottle from Tonowari’s hand and knocks it back, puffing out a sigh. 

“Keep still.” Ronal orders, driving the wooden needle through his skin. 

Ralak grumbles, letting his head hang between his knees and his hair fall forward. At this point Neytiri looks away, but Jake can’t. His eyes are plastered to the scene unfolding before him as he recognizes his son-in-law’s strength and perseverance. 

“That should hold until we are back.” She declares, gathering her supplies and stuffing them back into her pouch. 

“Irayo [thank you], Ronal.”

“You’re strong, boy.” Jake mumbles, patting Ralaks back as he gets up. “Anyone care to explain what the hell happened back there?” 

Ralak just shakes his head, leaving Tonowari to speak for him. “I will explain on the way back. You all have someone waiting for you.”

Ralak’s ears spring up at the thought of you, giving him a burst of energy to spring to his feet, gather his gear and lead the trek himself. The women walk behind him, concerned about his wound. Tonowari and Jake are left at the back, sharing a look before they begin their journey. 

——

“Fuck. Fuck.” You pant, looking down at your trembling hands that sink into the bed through double vision. You sway from side to side, trying to take steady, deep breaths, but the pressure between your legs is starting to make you panic. The possibility that you may have to do this alone is quickly becoming a reality. 

Zu’té is the one doing the pacing now, unable to sit still in his spot for much longer. He has long abandoned his woven pieces, burning lines into the patio floor as he walks back and forth outside—conflicted on his next move. 

He doesn’t want to go against your wishes and call a healer without you requesting it. But he must keep his word to Ralak—to keep you safe—which means calling for a healer. He chews on the toughened skin on his thumb, listening to your continuous whimpers and whines. By the sounds of it, you’re in active labour now, ready to give birth at any moment. 

——

A few hours have passed since they started the trek back home. Everyone has fallen into new positions that work for them. Ralak, eager to be at his pregnant mate’s side, leads the pack, clearing the path for the others. Jake and Neytiri stay not too far behind him, keeping a vigilant eye on their surroundings. Tonowari and Ronal are far at the back, linked together as she trudges on despite her extreme weariness.

“Let us take another break.” Tonowari speaks quietly to his mate, hand on her stomach. They share a look, speaking to one another with their eyes. She doesn’t want to hold up the group much more than she already has. 

“No. We are almost there—ugh!” Ronal lets out a sudden groan, clutching her stomach as she doubles over. 

Everyone stops dead in their tracks, turning around with wide eyes. Tonowari supports her, and carefully walks her over to a nearby fallen log, lowering her down onto it. She takes a few deep breaths as Neytiri and Jake rush over to her. 

“Is it time?” Neytiri asks, crouching down next to her. Ronal nods once, completely in tune with her body and aware of exactly what’s happening.

Which is why she insisted they continue, or else she won’t make it back in time. Ralak watches at a distance, his face contorting with sheer worry. No, borderline distress. He looks almost mortified, but not for the reasons that one may think. They all know why, it's obvious. If Ronal is in labour,

…that means you probably are too.  

“Go ahead.” Ronal pants, beads beginning to form at her temple. 

But Ralak doesn’t move. He can’t move. He’s at conflict with himself. An internal battle of knowing that he should stay and help, even though he really wants to go—needs to go. 

“We got it, son. Go to her.” Jake huffs as he helps Tonowari lift Ronal to carry her. “Go on!” He shouts, prompting Ralak to look to his father figure for approval, to which he meets him with a quick nod before averting his attention back to his labouring mate. And with Neytiri’s soft smile of reassurance, Ralak takes a few steps back before turning his heel and booking it home. 

——

“Haah…holy fuck—holy fuck.” You moan, feeling another contraction start up and the pressure between your legs intensify. 

This one has you on your hands and knees, clutching the bed head so hard your nails dig into the wood. It’s undeniable now. This baby is coming whether you like it or not. And as the contraction reaches its peak, you scream. 

“Zu’té!” It pains you to cry out for his name and not your mates. Hearing your call—your permission to enter—he finally bursts through the door and rushes to your side. 

“I’m here, I’m here.” He’s out of breath and on edge.

“I think—oh god—I think the baby’s coming!” You cry out, swooping your hand between your legs to try and feel what’s happening. 

“Shit. Like now? Like right now?” Zu’té panics as he watches you, hands hovering around you, unsure of what to do. 

“I d-don’t know! I—I don’t—I want Ralak! Fuck, fuck. I want lak!” You cry out in sheer agony. “I want my mate. I-I need him!” 

“Y/n. Eywa.” Desperation is potent in his voice now. 

The fact that you’re calling out for his brother means the time has come and he feels like a fool to have let this get this far without stepping in. He swallows and takes a breath to calm down, just as your contraction ends and leaves you sobbing on your knees. 

“I’m getting the healer.” He says firmly, turning his heel to leave but you grab his wrist before he can walk away. 

“No! Don’t leave…Please don’t leave me alone.” You beg, fear glossing over your eyes until it spills onto your cheeks once more. He looks at you with furrowed brows, lamenting for you. Now he’s really conflicted, because this means…it’s him or no one. 

“Ah, shit. Shit. Uhm.” He rakes his fingers through his scalp, thinking about his next move. He’s seriously considering going regardless, able to see the situation for what it is.

“Please, Zu’té.” You plead weakly, slowly lowering yourself onto your behind and off your knees, leaning back into the bedhead. 

“Okay, okay.” He nods and you let go of his wrist, immediately using your hand to support your stomach. You let your eyes close, they’re swollen and heavy. “Uh–right, right.” 

For some reason he can’t stop repeating himself twice. Perhaps it’s his way of keeping grounded. He heads straight for the bucket of water and rag to bring it over to you. He dips the rag into the water, and wrings it out. You barely open your eyes at the sound of the bucket making contact with the floor, and see that he’s nearing you with a damp cloth and raised brows. He’s waiting for your go ahead. 

“Yes.” Your voice is hoarse and trembling. 

Zu’té begins to wipe away the sweat that’s dripping in your eyes, your forehead, neck and chest. Dipping the rag back into the water, he wrings it out once more and wipes down your shoulders and arms. You can’t help but sit there and close your eyes, allowing him to do it all, exhausted.

Feeling something press against your lips, you open your eyes in a daze. Zu’té holds a cup of water to your mouth, and you drink ardently, gasping for air and closing your eyes when it’s emptied. Sleep calls to you, taking you as you barely manage to mutter out a weak, “...thank you.” 

Zu’té calculates another five minutes before your next contraction, giving him enough time to fetch a fresh pail of water—something absolutely necessary for the birth. He leaves you sat up against the bedhead, rag on your forehead as you sleep. But not even three minutes go by before he hears your languid moan. 

Abandoning the bucket, he rushes back into the marui, finding you standing and holding onto the marui stilt with one hand as the other tugs at the strap of your top. Seeing you try to undress has him stopping in his tracks and turning his head to look away. 

“Y/n—”

“Ughhaa—” You grunt, untethering the knot of your top. Your body is trying to get comfortable for the birth of your son now, and these pieces of cloth feel suffocating. “Get out!”

With that, Zu’té turns and retreats back to the patio, hands on his head as he begins to make his plan. If he flew on his skimwing, he could make it to the village and back with a healer in about ten minutes. But would that be enough time? What if you didn’t have ten minutes? Your pained groan turns into a howl and it makes his ears twitch. 

By the sound of that, you might not even have five minutes. 

“Come on, baby brother. Don’t make me do this. Please. Don’t make me go back in there. Oh shit—I’m going to have to go back in there, aren’t I? Eywa. Eywa. Okay—It’s okay. I can do this. Childbirth. It’s just childbirth. Right? Right.” 

Zu’té tries to convince himself that he’s capable of this despite this not being what he signed up for. 

“Okay, Toto. Just do it. Go in there.” Zu’té sounds breathless as he speaks to himself, turning around to face the door. He hears your whimper and his jaw tightens. “Shit. Okay. Right.”

Just as he raises his hand to pull back the curtain, he hears a winded voice. 

“Brother.”

[babyjakes]

a diamond's gotta shine.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | toys

pairing | soft!daddy!lloyd hansen x little!reader

warnings | ddlg (daddy!lloyd, little!reader.) super soft!daddy!lloyd, just how we like him! butt plug (and me not knowing shit about luxury brands lol.) reader has an oral fixation; sucking and licking. anal prep/fingering/stretching. clit rubbing <3. mostly praise and encouragement. an orgasm as reward, yay!! implied aftercare. err hints at exhibitionism later? idk just to be safe.

word count | 1,425

an | this wasn't really the plan for this prompt originally, but i woke up today and decided i wanted a fic of lloyd gifting reader a luxury butt plug so we're just rolling with it lol. this one's dedicated to my sweet sweet angel sabby @hansensgirl hope you're well bby, and happy holidays to you!! <33

"C'mon, princess. Up on my desk."

Lloyd was gently nudging you toward the large surface, which he had suspiciously cleared off from its usual state of mild disarray. You lifted a curious brow at the broad man, earning a pearly grin as he gently stepped in to sweep you up in his arms. Lifting you effortlessly onto the desktop, he set you down with care, as if you were the most delicate and precious thing in the world. He trailed a playful hand up your thigh, fingertips teasing at your skin through the silky fabric of your nylons. "Daddy," you hummed eagerly, letting out a soft squeak as he gently pinched at your tender flesh.

"Panties off, baby. Lay back for me," Lloyd instructed steadily. And he sure as hell didn't have to ask twice.

As you moved quickly to remove and discard your hose and panties, you couldn't help but try to sneak a peek at what your daddy was up to as he made his way to the other side of the desk, opening up a drawer and pulling something out discreetly. He then strode over to one of the couches in the middle of his office, grabbing a few throw pillows before returning to you. "Here you go, angel. Let's get you nice and comfy," he murmured, propping you up with the pillows supporting your back.

"Daddy," you whined again, a hint of neediness now present in your voice. Lloyd smiled as he brought up the gift to finally show you; the contents of his hands made you gasp. A beautiful plug, shiny gold, with a stunning ring of crystals embedded along the base. "Oh Daddy," you breathed, unable to take your eyes off the glittering piece.

"Genuine Winstons," Lloyd told you proudly, taking a small bottle of lube from his pocket and placing it on the desk beside you. "Only the best for my princess, of course."

"So pretty, Daddy," you remained in awe, earning a loving chuckle from the man as he watched you be entranced by the gift.

"I'm glad you think so, sweetheart. Now be a good girl and open up for Daddy, need you to get this nice and wet for me while I'm prepping you." He teased the tip of the plug against your glossy lips, guiding one of your hands up to hold the base. You sucked and licked happily at the metal's impressive curve as Lloyd got to work between your legs.

He parted your feet, bending your knees up to lie at either side of you as your dress slipped up easily in cooperation with his efforts. Pausing, he took a moment to revel in the sight of you. His gaze fell to your perfect folds as they sat before him on display. With a low hum of approval, he brought a gentle hand up to smear your wetness around teasingly. "Look at you, already getting wet for Daddy. That's my good girl," he smiled as he brought a finger down to begin gently prodding at your tighter little hole.

Still working the toy you'd been given between your pouty lips, you let out a whimper at your daddy's tentative nudges. You gasped softly at the feeling of a cold glob of lube being dripped onto you. Heat rose up through your cheeks in slight humiliation as the slippery mess was worked thoroughly over your puckered rosebud. "Okay baby," Lloyd hummed encouragingly, "time to open up this pretty little hole. Are you gonna be good for Daddy and take it?" You offered the sweetest nod you could manage, earning a beaming grin from the mustached man. "Of course you are. My sweet little girl," he crooned lovingly, giving no further warning before starting to push his first digit past your difficult outer ring.

You squirmed gently, big pleading eyes looking up at Lloyd as you let out a weak whine. "Hmmph... Daddy..." your voice wobbled.

The tall man brought his unused arm up to stroke back your hair in a calming manner. Furrowing his brow in gentle concern, he did his best to soothe you. "Shhh, my love," he cooed as his large finger worked up to the first knuckle, then the second, gradually stretching out your sensitive walls. "That's it, see? Nice and gentle. Look so pretty like this, taking Daddy's fingers up your sweet little bottom. My pretty girl," he kissed your forehead, holding you steady as he began introducing a second finger.

It was a slow, steady process; Lloyd knew that it had to be. He rarely played with you like this, mostly due to how much you struggled to take anything up your poor little ass. But he hoped that getting you a toy like this might help you adjust to the unfamiliar sensations; you had discussed prior that you'd like to do some proper anal training and play. Needless to say, you both felt this was the perfect first step in that endeavor.

Once you were comfortably and confidently taking two fingers, Lloyd finally felt ready to transition you over to your shiny new toy. "That's it, sweetheart. Fuck, so perfect for me," he was chuckling as your hips bucked up to meet his hand, his digits driving steadily into you. Much of the initial discomfort was gone, replaced with the most deliciously sinful burn blooming in the base of your tummy. Your eyes were shining with pride as you looked up hopefully at your daddy. Kissing your forehead again, Lloyd nodded as he slowed his fingers to a stop, retrieving the now-soaking plug from your drooling lips.

"Okay princess. Here we go-" You hummed eagerly as the tip of the gold bulb was rubbed up against your slippery opening. Lloyd surprised you a bit by bringing his free hand up to gently dip into your leaking pussy; much to your daddy's delight, you had made quite the mess during his generous preparation period. He dragged his fingertips up further, liberally smearing your glistening arousal over your clit to coax the tiny pearl out from under its protective hood with his expert touch. Your knees were trembling as he began working the nub in steady circles, while finally beginning to ease the large plug up into your awaiting walls.

"O-oh my- Daddy," you mewled as the warm, slick piece of metal stretched you out across its broad curvature. At its widest circumference, the object's insertion was bordering on painful. Lloyd's eyes never left you as he did his best to rub your clit faster, hoping the added stimulation would help ease the burn.

"Almost there baby, almost there," he promised, letting out a breath of relief in tandem with your own as you finally made it past the peak, the rest of the toy slipping perfectly into its place with little effort. As the glittering base nestled itself between your smooth cheeks, Lloyd looked on in pleasure and pride. "There," he hummed lowly, gently giving the center a few taps, earning the sweetest little whimpers from you. "What do you think, angel? Has someone earned an orgasm?"

His pace was quickening over your clit before you could even process his words. Hands flying down to grip the edges of the desk below you, you nodded desperately. "Y-yes Daddy, please Daddy!"

Your daddy smiled as he continued his steady rubbing, finding your sweet spot with ease. It wasn't long before you were reaching up to cling to his sturdy arm, your breaths stuttering as you chased your release. "That's it, baby. Go ahead and come for me. Been such a brave girl for Daddy," the man allowed, nodding as your high ripped through you.

"Daddy, o-oh Daddy! Aahhh-" you cried, the plug lurching within you as your poor little cunt clenched down on nothing. You were carried lovingly through your high, Lloyd's fingers only slowing as your spasms and contractions finally began to cease.

"That's my girl," he murmured gently, reaching up to brush your hair back out of your face as he gave your pussy and puffy button a few playful pats. "Now what d'you say we get you cleaned up, huh princess?" You were too weak to respond, only managing a lazy nod as you slumped against the pillows behind you, struggling to catch your breath.

He moved from your side momentarily to grab a cloth from one of the desk drawers. "Oh, but sweetheart- the toy stays in," he informed you with a wink. "We're having guests over later; Daddy wants his pretty girl to shine."

[wreckedandpolemic]

thinkin’ lots about your mouth - matty healy

(mdni) in which your boyfriend (yes, boyfriend) has an oral fixation, and you give him exactly what he wants. part of the regret me universe and summer75 2024. 1446 words.

warnings: mild temperature play, handjob, gagging, praise, degradation

Matty, you’ve noticed, has something of an oral fixation. If his mouth isn’t moving a mile a minute, there’s something between his lips, whether it’s a cigarette, his lower lip or a necklace. Or, today, an ice lolly. He’s lounging by the pool, licking and sucking pornographically on it, lips stained red as a bead of juice trickles from his lip.

You’re sweating from something entirely besides the weather, watching him push the lolly as far down his throat as it’ll go and locking eyes with you. He pulls it out of his mouth and lifts it in a toast, grinning proudly and licking the juice off his lips. Heat prickles in your belly and you wander up to him, perching at the edge of his sun lounger and lifting your sunglasses to stare into his eyes. “Little show-off,” you tease, but it comes out soft, fond, a little fragile as you map the edges of your new dynamic with him.

After your little outburst the last night of tour, Matty had confronted you and begged for the two of you to make a real go of it; try an actual relationship after years of denying you felt anything for each other. Obviously, because neither of you are capable of being fucking normal about the other, letting a relationship develop naturally, you immediately moved in with him. It still holds an element of unreality, feels like a vacation, like one wrong move could shatter the tenderness blossoming between you. He finishes the lolly, smacks his lips obnoxiously and grins over at you.

“Always need that pretty mouth filled up, huh?” you smirk, nudging Matty forward so you can sit behind him, resting your head on his shoulder and pressing a soft kiss against his cheek. A gentle smile crosses his face as he tips his head back to bare his neck, curls brushing your bare shoulders. “You gonna be a good boy for me, baby?” you ask, trailing one hand down his stomach and feeling his muscles tense under your touch. He nods, grinning dopily like he can’t believe how gentle you’re being. “C’mon, darling, words,” you add, brushing over his cock through his shorts just to feel his hips jump.

“Yeah,” Matty gasps, a flush spreading across his cheeks. “Yeah, m’a good boy. Your good boy, only f’you,” he promises, and your heart flutters a little. It’s hardly the first time he’s said those words, not even the first time he’s meant them, but it feels different now. Now that, after so long, he’s really, truly yours.

You press slow, lazy kisses along his neck, cupping his jaw with your free hand and turning it towards you. “All mine,” you grin, your words finally free of the bite that usually accompanies them, the bitter untruth finally dissolved into sweetness on your tongue. His lips are still cold when you kiss him, gloriously soothing in the summer heat with the sugary taste dripping into your mouth.

Leaning down, you reach into the cooler that sits on the floor next to you and pull out another ice lolly. Unwrapping it, you do the kind of disgustingly couple-y thing you never could have dreamed of even a month ago, licking slowly across its surface before lifting it to Matty’s lips. His tongue comes out eagerly, lapping at the treat as you palm his cock slowly. “Please,” he murmurs, low and reverent. “Feels good. Want more, want you to touch me,” he pleads, hissing when you press the ice against his neck.

“Such a sweet boy, askin’ so nicely. You gotta keep quiet, though, princess. We’re outside, anyone could hear those slutty little noises you make.” Matty shivers and you slowly trail the lolly down his chest, leaning down to lick the melted sugar off his neck. “Those are just for me now, right?”

Biting into the lolly, you let the ice melt on your tin for a moment as Matty whimpers, “Yeah. All f’you. M’yours.” You grin proudly, catching his lips and slowly pressing the ice into his mouth as you draw sticky, red circles across his chest.

Your cold lips meet his neck and you slide your hand under his waistband to free his cock, slowly stroking him and savouring the way he twitches helplessly. “So sweet,” you murmur. “S’okay, princess. Fuck my hand if you wanna.” His hips jolt, his cock drooling precum against your fingers as you kiss and bite at his neck.

“Thank you,” Matty gasps, instinctive and syrupy-sweet in your ear. You dig your nail into his slit in reward and he whines, a sweetly pathetic little sound that falls straight between your legs.

“Shh, baby. Gotta be quiet, remember?” you murmur. “S’okay, princess. Such a dumb little slut, can’t think about anything but how bad you want it, huh?” You kiss the corner of his mouth, just because you can, a little giddy with the feeling. “Let me help you, yeah?” You drop the ice lolly, letting it melt on the hot stone, and stroke across his flushed cheek.

Matty nods eagerly, and you slide two fingers into his mouth, drool pooling under his tongue, still cool from the ice. He moans softly around your fingers, sucking gently, almost absently, as you jerk him off. Hips stuttering, he gives a garbled whine that might be your name, the sound stoking fire between your legs.

Despite the gag, he seems determined to make as much noise as possible, whimpering pathetically as you stroke and squeeze just the way he likes. “God, just can’t help yourself, can you, darling? Sound so pretty, baby. You can take a little more, right?” Matty nods as best he can, and you press your fingers a little deeper. The obscene sound of his gag sends a pulse of heat washing over you, and you speed up your motions over his cock in reward.

“Such a good boy,” you croon softly; the sweetness of the words on your tongue is unfamiliar but far from unpleasant. Kissing his neck, you taste an intoxicating combination of sweat and sugar, licking eagerly over his damp skin. You can feel Matty getting closer, cock leaking precum stickily over your fingers as he fucks into your fist with abandon.

He’s moaning helplessly around your fingers, trembling at your touch and drooling messily under your fingers. “Aw, baby. You waitin’ for permission?” Matty nods frantically, something like Yeah, m’your good boy spilling from his lips, red and spit-slick. “God, so sweet. Trained you so well, haven’t I? My little slut.” You play with him a little longer, teasing his head and squeezing him gently. “So gorgeous. Go on, princess. Cum for me.”

At the last second, you slide your fingers free, wiping his spit against his chest an instant before his orgasm rips through him. A moan tears free from Matty’s throat, high and loud, cum splashing over your fingers as his body quivers with effort. Grabbing his jaw, you turn his head and kiss him as he comes, swallowing his moans as he comes over his stomach. “Thank you,” he murmurs against your lips, grinning dopily. “Felt s’good.”

“Made such a mess,” you croon, lifting your hand to his lips. Without even needing to be instructed, Matty takes your fingers in his mouth, cleaning them off with a greedy moan. “Dirty boy,” you giggle, getting to your feet and sliding back down into his lap. You grab his hand and slip it into your bikini, gasping as he finds your clit instinctively and brushes a slow circle. “See how wet you make me? I need you,” you murmur against the shell of his ear, his responding shudder endearingly pathetic.

“Lookin’ at me like you wanna eat me,” he groans, cock twitching between his legs as your smirk only grows.

Matty draws sloppy figure-eights on your clit, pleasure spiking in your core and dripping against his fingers. “Mhmm,” you moan. “Been such a good boy, Matty. Gonna let you fuck me, if you want.” He nods so hard you’d almost think his neck was going to snap. “So eager, princess. I don’t wanna do all the work again, though. Come fuck me into the mattress?”

It’s almost comical how fast Matty scrambles to his feet, tugging you inside by the hand and frantically pulling at your bikini. He slides home with a sweet little moan, and you tangle your hands in his hair and kiss him, hungry and content. You lose yourself in each other’s bodies, a tangle of limbs and hands and messy kisses. “That’s it, baby. Makin’ me feel so good. My good boy,” you moan against his lips.

“All yours, promise m’yours.”

[mechdyke]

Rodimus X human!Reader - One-on-one time

WARNINGS: WATERSPORTS, under-negotiated kink, very mild non-con if you squint, AFAB reader but no gendered pronouns

Note: I'm imagining the reader to be about the size of a large doll. about 35cm/14” if compared to a human? That's how big the porcelain doll I used to work out positioning is lol

this is... the first fanfic ive finished and posted in probably close to 7 years. and its piss. its just lovingly written piss. whatever man. if anyone has any advice or notes pls lmk! i still feel like its a bit poorly written and awkward.

Getting the lap dog treatment from Rodimus was something you were used to by now. Your soft body being held tightly against hard abdominal plating, digits caressing your head and patting your hair, toying gently with soft strands in an affectionate way. Could it get uncomfortable? Sure. But the gentle rumbling of an engine and the slight warmth of metal armour up against your back was surprisingly comforting, despite the lack of padding.

After a good couple of hours of sitting in his lap, the familiar feeling of the need to pee started to build up in your abdomen. The tickling sensation coupled with the way Rodimus' servo was gently pressing against your stomach was already becoming a bit too much to handle. You took in a breath, trying to calm your body as much as possible before you spoke up. "Hey, Rodimus? Gonna need you to let me up real quick." You spoke as calmly as possible, trying not to alert him to your growing discomfort.

"Huh? What? Why? I thought we had something good going here. Just you and me, havin' a lil one on one time." Rodimus joked, squeezing you just a little more firmly against him. You sucked in a breath at the pressure, his servo pressing right against your bladder. You needed to get up ASAP.

"Roddy as much as I love you and your attempts at humour..." You smiled as casually as you could, feeling your crotch tingle ever so slightly, "I'm serious, I really gotta head to the bathroom." You looked up into his optics, meeting his gaze. He paused for a minute, his digits going still against you. The datapad he was trying, and failing miserably, at reading through nearly fell from his servo. You swore you could see his spoiler wings twitch, his vents cycling just a little warmer.

"Uh-huh! Just gimme a bit and I'll carry ya to the washracks. Really gotta finish reading and signing this or Ultra Magnus will get on my aft again." Rodimus finally replied after an awkward moment of silence, his voice slightly strained. You sighed, and relented quickly with a nod. The quicker you agreed, the quicker he'd finish doing his thing. Plus, at this point, the long trek to the washracks might be your downfall. And you really didn't wanna wet yourself on the way there. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on anything but the feeling of needing to pee. The sound of Rodimus' digits tapping at the datapad. The thud of bots walking through distant corridors. The slight smell of gasoline and burnt rubber. The feeling of his servo pressing-

"Can't you finish when we get back? I'll only be a couple of minutes- or uh- kliks I promise." You huffed desperately, your voice uncharacteristically shaky. Your thighs were squeezing together, and you were squirming even more. If his servo wasn't wrapped around you you'd have run off by now. You lean your head back against him, breathing rather heavily. He glances down at your flushed face, small organic body squirming against his large metal frame, and the look of pure desperation on your face. His fans click on.

You feel your cheeks heat up slightly at the sound. "Rodimus...?" Your need to pee is almost entirely forgotten for a moment as you stare up into his optics. A moment passes where you're both silent. "Rodimus are you getting off on this?" You ask rather bluntly, eyes not leaving his optics. Energon rushes to his cheeks, and he scoffs in denial.

"What? Of course not! Who'd get all charged up to the idea of a cute little squishy organic sitting on their lap, squirming against their panel and making cute little whimpers? Not me. That's for sure." Rodimus scoffs again, flush deepening as he realises he's just dug himself into an even deeper hole. An embarrassed staticky noise escapes his vocaliser, and he squeezes you around the abdomen again, unconsciously. "Alright fine, maybe. Don't be mad?" He sighs, scratching the back of his helm.

"Look, I'm not mad but-" You snap back to the reality of the situation as your crotch throbs almost painfully, his servo pressing against you reminding you of the heavy feeling in your bladder. You let out a groan, resting your head against his abdominal plating. "I'm going to piss myself if you keep pressing against me like that..." You mumble, arousal pooling in your lower stomach. You grind against him slightly in a mix of desperation and arousal. Rodimus' fans start spinning even faster, the warmth of his plating almost hot enough to burn your skin. He has to manually override a command to open his panel, the arousal starting to cloud his processor.

"Let me... help you with that..." Are the next words that escape Rodimus' voice box. Before you can ask what he means, a large metal hand is caressing your crotch gently, curiously. Your mind is slightly hazy, the tension thick in the air. You don't respond verbally, instead fumbling with the button to your pants and pulling them off with a slight struggle. Your underwear were damp, the slightest tinge of ammonia hitting his olfactory sensors. He dismissed another command prompt.

Digits trace against your covered crotch before pulling your underwear down, your breath hitching in your throat. Rodimus picks you up, resting you against his chassis. He pulls a thick polishing cloth from his subspace, folding it and placing it into his palm, before gently placing you on top of it, leaning you back against his digits. You fit surprisingly comfortably into his servo, legs dangling off the side of his palm. "Alright uh... you can just... void onto this cloth." His voice was strained, his internal fans whirring, his engine rumbling and his vents pouring hot air into the already warm room.

"I can't go when you're watching..." You mumble in embarrassment, face burning up. The cloth is soft against you, his frame warm and comfortingly familiar.

"Yes you can, sweetspark..." Rodimus rumbles comfortingly, free servo gently running through your hair. Your face is flushed with humiliation, you breath coming out as ragged pants. It burns and throbs, and you can feel a fluttering, tingly sensation blooming from your urethra, enveloping your entire crotch. One of his digits gently rubs at your folds, toying with your clit ever so gently to help you relax. He increases the pressure on your stomach slightly to encourage you, and you let go with a whimper.

It starts off slow, a gentle trickle into the cloth. Rodimus presses it against you slightly, making sure to soak up as much as possible. His thumb continues gently rubbing circles around your clit, cloth nestled in his palm. You can't hold back your noises, small moans and whimpers filling his audials. The sound of pressurising hydraulics can be heard as he lifts you slightly closer to his faceplate, optics flickering slightly as he watches. You're getting embarrassingly close already, panting and twitching in his servo. The cloth is almost entirely soaked, the once soft white fabric now tinted yellow. The feeling of emptying your bladder coupled with the pressure on your clit has you finishing quicker than you've ever finished before. Your back arches slightly, and with a soft moan of his name you're cumming against his servo.

Rodimus sucks in a heavy ex-vent, his free servo moving slightly faster. You didn't even notice he was touching himself until now. His helm hangs back as he overloads, sticky pink transfluids splattering across his desk and onto the forgotten datapad. You're panting as you lay back slightly in his palm, sticky, sweaty and absolutely spent. You both take a moment to rest before he pulls out another cloth from his subspace. He shoves the soiled one into his desk drawer, slowly wiping and cleaning you up with the new one. You hum in appreciation, squirming slightly at the overstimulating feeling of soft fabric against your sensitive folds. He quickly cleans himself up, his panel sliding closed with a click, and softly places you back down in his lap. His engine purrs softly, and you sigh contently. "Hey Rodimus?" He hums in response to your words, looking down at you with clear blue optics. "Next time you want me to piss on you, can you just ask?" You laugh softly. His faceplate heats up again and he bursts into his own laugh, rolling his optics and poking you in the side slightly.

"You ask so much of me." He sighs dramatically, shaking his helm. He reaches down to gently stroke your hair as you slowly start to doze off. His cheeks heat up again, energon rushing to his faceplate. "...wait... next time?”

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 9,001 (yeah, she's a beast!) Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria S9, post-Negan war, before the bridge Warnings: language (duh, it’s me), violence (no sexual violence), injuries to main character, blood, some kind of dark Saviors shit (not like line-up level dark but kinda fucked), mild angst, Protective!Daryl, hurt/comfort Summary: The war is over, but it isn't all peaches and cream. The Sanctuary struggles to function and Daryl and Y/N struggle with ghosts of their pasts after Rick asks them to take things over there. Deciding they've had enough, they decide to depart for Hilltop but Y/N stays behind for a couple days to help Carol get started taking over. The past comes back to rear its ugly head... A/N: This is an epilogue to the Sacrifice series, but you don't necessarily have to have read all 29 previous parts to appreciate it (though you def should!) [Spoilers (or reminders) for context start here -> -> -> The war is over, Y/N was once one of Negan's wives in order to protect her brother, she went back to Negan to break Daryl out of the Sanctuary, Daryl ends up shooting Negan to protect Y/N when a plan of theirs goes awry and the war ends, Y/N was also shot in the process but survived]

_ _ _ _ _ _

You and Daryl stood off to the side, watching the group of people gather around Rick, flooding the open space on the Sanctuary’s factory floor. You gently touched him on the arm and his blue eyes landed on your face. “Are you going to talk to him tonight?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. I gotta. I can’t—we can’t stay here any longer. I dun want you here either. Bein’ in here, in these walls again, it feels like it’s slowly poisonin’ us…” He glanced at the fresh graffiti someone had sprayed on the wall. We’re still Negan. Saviors Save Us

Your hand slipped down his forearm and you laced your fingers with his. “I know. It’s the right decision.”

“Yeah,” he mused. “Ain’t sure Rick’s gonna agree though…”

“Rick isn’t the one here dealing with all these people, reliving everything every day. It’s too much,” you said. Daryl nodded in agreement.

“Yeah…” Just then, Rick finished talking to the gathered group and there was a smattering of applause and murmuring. You gave Daryl’s hand a gentle squeeze as Rick wandered over. “Good luck,” you murmured.

Soon, various business that needed to be discussed was concluded and the already dim torch and lantern lights on the Sanctuary factory floor were all but put out. Daryl and Rick retreated up to the catwalk.

As they stood side-by-side, looking down at the shadowy, rundown building below them, Daryl sighed heavily and Rick could feel the tension between them. Rick broke the silence first. “So, what’s going on?” he asked.

Daryl gulped and straightened up, looking his friend in the eye. “I don't wanna be the one leadin’ these people anymore.”

Rick’s expression was impassive. “Okay... Why?”

“Bein' here, behind these walls again... It just don't feel right, man. I'm better out there. I always have been. And I’ve got Y/N to think about. After what happened to her in here—with him—”

Rick sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Things happened to you in here too,” Rick said, perhaps realizing for the first time what he’d really asked of his friend, his brother…

“Yeah, well I care more about her than I care about myself. This is where her life was a livin’ fuckin’ nightmare. His wife…” he murmured under his breath. “She wasn’t his wife. She was his damn property. Her brother died here. He destroyed her group just like he destroyed ours. What d’ya think this place reminds both of us of?” He asked, turning sharp eyes to Rick. “Hmm? Did ya even think ‘bout that when ya asked me to come back here? Didya stop to think that ya might be askin’ us to relive some of the worst shit we’ve ever gone through?”

Rick hung his head for a moment, clasping his hands together. A wash of guilt and shame came over him. He hadn’t considered the full extent of it, no. But there was no one else to do the job and so he’d asked too much of Daryl, too much of you. “But you and Y/N have kept this place together. You’ve kept people in line here. We can't just let the Sanctuary fail after everything that's happened,” he said.

Daryl shook his head and paced a small, agitated circle. “Man, s’gonna fail anyway. Nothin’ grows here. It's a damn factory, man. Look, when Negan was around, he needed people to provide for him. It's still the same. Nothin's changed,” Daryl argued.

“It's different now. We give what we give willingly,” Rick retorted.

“And how long's that gonna last? Most of the bridges are out after the big storm. The highway's done. We've scavenged every drop of gas for miles. And we can't make enough corn fuel to run the cars or the trucks. Pretty soon, it's gonna be more than a day's ride from one spot to another.”

“Well, it's on us to figure out how to make it work,” Rick said, leaning forward on the rail again.

“Man, there ain't no ‘us’ anymore. Everyone's everywhere,” he pointed out. “I feel lucky that Y/N and I are even in the same damn place.” He let out another weighty sigh. “That small group we had back in the beginning... plus a few more of the people we picked up along the way, we could do anythin’. That was right. That’s what I know.” Daryl leaned forward beside Rick, chewing on his bottom lip in that signature way.

“Well, you wanna come home to Alexandria, then?” Rick asked. “You and Y/N?”

Daryl shook his head. “No. We'll go back to Hilltop, check on Maggie and the baby.”

“Well, you go, someone's got to take your place here. Rosita and Eugene are headed to Oceanside next. Maggie's sending food, but not people, and Kingdom's got its own problems rebuilding after losing its fighters. If Alexandria sends another person out, I could use the help back home.”

Daryl only let out a small huff.

“We're not together because things have changed,” Rick said again.

Daryl stiffened. “Mm-hmm,” he hummed. His blue eyes turned to Rick again and they were intense. “The thing is, you changed ‘em, Rick.” The tension felt hot and pulsating in the air like liquid mercury. He patted his friend on the shoulder. “But I get it.” And then Daryl took his leave.

On the staircase, Carol backed away as quietly as she could, only to be startled by your voice softly behind her. “Well, that didn’t go great,” you whispered.

Carol turned to face you, her face drawn. “Daryl is right though. Rick shouldn’t have asked that of the two of you after—after everything you went through here. And he should have known Daryl would have a hard time saying no to him.”

You nodded and straightened up, stepping toward her. “Rick’s his brother,” you agreed. “And there really was no one else. But Daryl’s right. We can’t stay here anymore. It’s—it’s wearing him thin.”

“And you?” Carol asked, worried.

You gave her a tight smile and shrugged. But when you spoke again your voice broke. “I’d almost rather be anywhere else…”

Carol nodded knowingly and then grabbed you into a hug. “I’m sorry,” she said. her mind drifted back to her own abuse at the hands of Ed and she felt a swell of affection for you and for Daryl, for both of you taking this on at all after everything… When she pulled back, she cleared her throat, pushing her emotion away. “I’ll—I’ll take over here a while. You and Daryl need to get out. I want to help.”

“Carol—”

“Don’t argue with me. My mind’s made up,” she said firmly.

You nodded. “Okay. Thank you,” you said. “I’m—I’m gonna go talk to Rick,” you said. “Make him understand.”

Carol nodded. “I’ll check on Daryl. Let him know what I’m thinking.”

“Okay. Good idea… Hey—Carol. This is—what you’re doing to help, it’s huge for us. So, thank you.”

She gave you a warm smile and you passed her on your way up the stairs to find Rick. He was still leaning heavily on the railing, clearly in deep thought over his discussion with Daryl. But he turned at the sound of your steps on the metal catwalk and straightened up when he saw you.

“Hey,” you greeted him stopping beside him and also looking down over the factory floor. No one was milling around anymore. Most people had drifted away to bed. “You okay?” you asked, giving him a knowing, sideways glance.

Rick laughed a little wryly and nodded. “Yeah… Just—tryin’ to figure out if and where I went wrong,” he said, clasping his hands together. “Things I’d do differently now…”

You nodded. “You have a lot of weight on your shoulders. Daryl knows that.”

Rick met your eyes again, clearly realizing you’d overhead their conversation somehow.

You straightened up and tilted your head toward the hallway down the catwalk. “Follow me. I want to show you something.”

Rick followed you as you stopped to grab a lantern and then led him down the hallway. This part of the building was mostly empty these days, except for a few people who had carved out some private spaces for themselves. The warm orange glow flickered past many doors and other halls before you turned right and came partially down the next corridor. The nauseous feeling and the heavy pit in your stomach grew as you walked, and before you knew it, your hand was trembling slightly holding the lantern. This place was full of ghosts.

Rick looked at you with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked. The tremble in your hand translated to a shakiness in the shadows cast by the light on the walls and it was easy to see.

“We’re almost there,” you said softly.

You walked in further silence for only another half a minute before you stopped in front of a gaping dark space in the wall, barely bigger than a closet. Rick gave you a questioning look and you lifted the lantern to illuminate it. The floor was filthy with layers of smeared dirt and who-knows what else. “This is where they held us. Me, when my brother and I were captured, and Negan singled me out from my group. And Daryl after the line-up with Alexandria.”

Rick stared at the dirty, dingy space and he could almost see Daryl huddled there in his mind’s eye, wearing that filthy sweatshirt. His brow furrowed and his face contorted.

You pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Your head felt a bit light and foggy. “I—I had the doors that used to be on the cells removed, because—I just couldn’t stand the sight of them closed up like that. I kept—kept imagining Daryl was still in there every time I had to walk past. Or that somehow, I was going to end up back in there.” You glanced over at Rick who was staring straight into the darkness. He watched as you raised your free hand to rub at your bad shoulder, the one Negan’s bullet had pierced. “They took all his clothes at first. Left him in there naked. Cold. Shot. Hungry. Wondering what happened to the rest of you. And the thirst… Then, Dwight humiliated him and they fed him dog food and blasted music to keep him awake. The same song, over and over. Then, they made him work outside in the heat and humidity in that filthy sweatsuit, chaining walkers to the fence for Negan or doing whatever awful chores they could invent. He had to clean up after Negan punished someone, mopping up shit or piss or worse… Dwight made him look at pictures of—of what happened to Glenn and Abraham.” Tears burned in your eyes and Rick’s shut and he dropped his head.

He lifted a hand to wave you off. “I—I understand,” he said in a low voice, his heart breaking. He’d been careless to ask Daryl to come here, too focused on his beautiful dream in the memory of Carl to realize what this would do to you and to Daryl.

“He didn’t want to say no to you when you asked him to come back here. You’re like a brother to him. He didn’t want to let you down even though—it’s literally the last place either of us wants to be.”

Rick sighed heavily and rubbed his hand over his mouth and chin. “I don’t have an excuse… I—I shouldn’t have asked it. Of either of you… I just—I was tryin’ to make this all work.”

You nodded. “I know. So does Daryl. But that doesn’t mean that it hasn’t been… We’ve both been reliving our trauma having to be back here. And we’ve hit our limit. That’s all.”

Rick met your eyes again. You hadn’t even talked about yourself, about what you’d been through here in the cell and with Negan after, not really. You’d mainly focused on Daryl. But Rick could guess well enough what it would have been like for you being one of Negan’s wives and living in that constant fear for your brother and yourself, what you’d had to subject yourself to.

He glanced again at that dark space in the wall. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Carol said she’ll take over here for a while,” you said, turning away from the cell and starting back the way you came.

Rick looked surprised but nodded, walking along beside you.

“I’ll—I’ll stay a couple days to get her going here and up to speed. And then I’ll go meet Daryl in Hilltop.”

“Alright,” Rick nodded. “It’ll have to work for now. But I can’t help thinking it’s a patch on the issue and not a fix.”

You laughed wryly again. “Aren’t most things these days? Rick, Daryl wasn’t wrong about The Sanctuary. It’s a resource sink. It doesn’t produce anything. You’re still going to have to square with that one day. I get what you have been trying to do, making peace with the rest of The Saviors, and not all of them are guilty of the awful things that happened during the war. But things are still festering here under the surface.”

Rick looked over at you, concerned. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, about ready to part ways with him on the catwalk again. “You saw the graffiti. Negan might be dead but for some of them, it’s not over.” You gave him one last look. “Daryl and I know you have a lot on your plate, but it’s time for us to get the hell outta here. If we don’t… this place will consume us. We can’t move away from what happened while we’re here. It’s like—it’s like having it shoved down our throats every day.”

You took your leave from Rick then, leaving him again in deep thought. You knew where you could find Daryl, at a spot outside he liked to go where most people wouldn’t be able to disturb him. It happened to be someplace the two of you sometimes went to watch the stars. When you got there, stepping just one foot outside the building, you had to smile to yourself. Daryl and Carol were just sitting together, side-by-side, enjoying a moment after being apart for so long. You decided to leave them to it.

You made your way back to the room you and Daryl had claimed together in a different part of The Sanctuary. You hastily changed your clothes and got ready for bed, knowing he’d come find you there when he was ready. And it wasn’t long before he did, coming in to see you already cozied up in the bed you shared, reading a worn paperback.

You smiled as he came in. “Hi,” you said.

He stopped in the doorway and took you in, giving you a small smile back. “Hey. Sorry I wasn’t here earlier,” Daryl drawled, sinking down beside you on the mattress. “I was out sittin’ with Carol.”

“It’s alright. I know you were. I didn’t want to interrupt,” you said, reaching for a strand of his wavy hair and running your fingers down it gently. “You haven’t seen each other for a while.”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling off his boots. “Get this. Ezekiel asked her to marry him,” he said, giving you a conspiratorial look.

You pushed yourself up on the palm of your hand. “Oh my God!” you burst out.

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

“Well? What did she say?!”

“Ah… She ain’t ready yet,” Daryl explained.

“Wow.” You thought of Carol and Ezekiel together after the close call at the museum. They were good for each other. “Maybe someday?” you asked.

Daryl nodded. “Mhm.” His hand came to rest on the graceful curve of your neck. It was cool from the nighttime air. He leaned in and kissed you softly, pulling back just slightly to study the colors in your irises. “Listen—I told Rick—”

“Yeah, I know,” you interrupted him gently. “I could hear the two of you. And Carol talked to me too. She’s gonna take over here for a while.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. So, we can go. We dun have to be here anymore. Figured we can head to Hilltop tomorrow. Check on Maggie and Hershel.”

You nodded and then ducked your eyes. “I’m—I’m gonna stay here with Carol for just a couple more days. Help her get started and settled. Then I can meet you. I’ll take one of the horses.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. You could see that he was getting ready to argue.

“It’s just a few more days,” you whispered, gently grabbing onto the front of his vest. “It’s the least I can do since she’s doing this for us, leaving her family and world in The Kingdom.”

Daryl’s stomach churned a little, leaving him feeling slightly nauseous. “She’ll have Eugene,” he pointed out.

“Barely. He and Rosita are heading to Oceanside next to get the fishery going.”

Daryl sighed heavily and moved back to sit on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slightly slumped. He was chewing on his bottom lip. You knelt behind him and draped yourself against his back, looping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the curtain of his wavy hair, breathing him in and leaving a kiss on his neck. “It’s just a couple days,” you said again.

He gulped. He didn’t know why, but there was a pit in his stomach. “I dunno…” he mused aloud. “I dun like ya bein’ here without me. Here of all damn places.” His mind went back to that graffiti sprayed on the wall.

“I know. I don’t either. But I want to help Carol as a thank you. And then I’ll come straight to Hilltop.” You moved around to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. “Hey—Look at me,” you urged him. “I can handle myself. Or did you forget?” you teased him, bumping into his shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

“I know ya can handle yerself. It ain’t that… Somethin’ just—I dunno. Somethin’ dun feel righ’.”

You sighed and nodded knowingly. “It’s never felt right being here.”

“Yeah… maybe tha’s just it. I dunno,” he said finally, but you noted that he still looked slightly troubled. It had been a long day, and his talk with Rick was intense. He stood up and started getting ready to climb in bed with you. You watched the muscles in his back ripple, crisscrossed by his scars, as he pulled off his shirt. You crawled back beneath the sheets and waited until he slipped in beside you.

“C’mere,” he murmured softly to you as he settled into his pillow. You moved into him immediately and he pulled you against him. You tangled your legs with his and gazed into his bright blue eyes. He draped an arm over you and his hand moved to find the hem of your t-shirt before slipping underneath it and pressing against your bare skin, tracing absent patterns on your side, your hip, your back. Daryl leaned in and kissed you, one that was deep and full of wanting.

You felt a pooling of heat expanding in your chest as his lips moved to your neck. Daryl listened to your breathing hitch as he kissed your pulse point and grazed the shell of your ear. His hands wandered over the shape of you beneath the draping of your shirt. In no time, the two of you were completely lost in each other, melting into sensations and quiet gasps of pleasure, bounding hearts and heaving chests, skin on skin. Daryl’s fingers laced between yours, his other hand firm on your hip. Then, after you both reached your blissful highs, you fell asleep in his arms and neither of you woke until the sun was coming up.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You walked with Daryl to his bike and stood beside him as he strapped down his gear, giving him a smile when he looked up at you again.

“Are ya sure ‘bout this? Ya dun have to stay. Carol will be fine,” he said in a low voice. That pit in his stomach had returned almost immediately when he awoke and thought about separating from you.

You gently rested your hands on his sides, stepping in close. “Everything is going to be fine. Go help Maggie. Check on her and Hershel. I’ll see you soon. Okay?”

He looked worried, but nodded. “S’yer call. Two days,” he drawled.

You nodded. “Two days. I promise.”

“Alrigh’…” He leaned in and kissed you deeply, clasping your face and pressing his other hand into the small of your back to pull your body flush against his. You kissed him back heatedly and hungrily and sighed when you broke apart.

“Miss ya already,” he said, breaking contact with you and getting ready to climb onto his bike.

“Same,” you agreed, giving him a tight smile. “Love you,” you added, waiting until the last moment of separating to unlace your fingers from his.

He nodded and studied you, drinking in the view. “You too.”

Then, in a spray of gravel and a cloud of dust he was on his way. You didn’t see him glance back at you over his shoulder before he completely lost sight of The Sanctuary.

You found Carol already on the factory floor standing with Eugene, looking over whatever list of action items were on his clipboard that day. You were absently rubbing your bad shoulder as you came up. It had been aching since the day before. Had revisiting the cell stirred things up? Probably. Carol noticed immediately.

“You okay? Shoulder bothering you?” she asked.

You nodded. “Just a little. The old war wound acting up a bit,” you said with a wry laugh.

Eugene looked up from his clipboard. “I could potentially formulate a topical balm that may relieve some of your chronic pain symptoms, though most ingredients would not sufficiently penetrate the muscle in order to reach the origin of—”

You cut him off with a smile and a laugh. “It’s okay, Eugene. I’m fine. It’s not too bad. What do we need to tackle today?”

The three of you chatted briefly about what needed to be done urgently and then each picked your tasks to start with. Several hours later, you were nearly done trying to treat the small number of plants that were still surviving in the raised garden beds for some kind of insect pest when you were interrupted.

You turned at the sound of footsteps to see one of the Sanctuary residents approaching. You stood and dusted the soil from your gloves. “Hi. What’s up?”

“The guys getting that scrap metal from the upper floors found a water leak. Can you come take a look at it? We might be able to fix it, but we’d probably have to shut the water off completely for a while.”

You sighed heavily and pulled off your gloves. “Always something new, isn’t it?” you said dryly. “Yeah, I’ll come take a look now. Lead the way.”

You passed through the factory floor, noting that the graffiti discovered the day before had been freshly painted over as Daryl had demanded. Carol and Eugene were bent over a table in deep discussion over some new plan. Your stomach flipped as it always did as you passed the oven where Negan used to heat his iron or branding rods. You turned your eyes away.

Soon you were on the upper floors, walking through the dim hallways. It always felt eerily quiet up there. The resident you were following pointed ahead to the next doorway and then stopped to grab some work gloves from a pile of gear set in the hallway. You passed him and stopped in the doorway, expecting to see the group of other people working, but the room was empty. And there was no sign of a water leak. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. “Hey, are you sure this is—”

And then everything went black.

Carol was walking somewhat aimlessly back and forth across the factory floor, weaving through the supplies and little bunched groups of people. She craned her neck trying to see if she could spot you anywhere. The two of you had planned to meet for the evening meal after everyone was done for the day but Carol was suddenly realizing she hadn’t seen you since that morning.

Her stomach began to churn. She bolted toward outside where evening was beginning to fall. The garden beds cast long, deep shadows between them, but she didn’t find you crouched among them. The final place she checked was the room you shared with Daryl, now mainly bare of your items since the two of you had begun packing your belongings to leave. Daryl had already taken his few things away on his bike.

There was no sign of you.

Her heart started to pound. She’d questioned everyone she could think of as to your whereabouts. Where could you possibly be? An anxious thought flitted into her mind. Her stomach tightened into a fist. It wasn’t like you not to arrive somewhere you said you would…

The last thing to do was to search the rarely used upper floors. She knew a crew had been working up there earlier in the day, collecting and hauling scrap metal to be reused to patch the roof and fences. Perhaps something had come up and you were still up there assisting with a problem.

Her boots made a lonely, echoing sound as she rushed around corner after corner. There was a weighty silence and the farther up she wandered, the sicker she felt. Something was seriously wrong. She could feel it in her bones. She called your name out but it strangely didn’t seem to pierce the thick vapor of silence in front of her. Every step increased her heart rate and poured adrenaline into her bloodstream. She felt almost shaky as she loosened her knife in its sheath. Just in case, she thought. In case of what?

Another minute or two passed as she searched. Each moment felt excruciatingly long. And then all of a sudden, her breath caught in her throat. “Oh my God. Y/N!” Carol bolted toward the crumpled form halfway down the hall in front of her. “Oh, God…” The front of your shirt was soaked with blood and you were lying on the cold floor unconscious. Your face was bruised and swollen. There were cuts and smears of blood on your skin. But what held her attention horrifically was that whoever had done this to you had taken a knife and began to carve a word into your chest, just below your collar bone. SA and part of a V. Carol didn’t need to guess what they’d intended to spell. They were making a gruesome point. Her hands shook as they hovered over you for a moment. She said your name again and then gently clasped your face and gripped your arm. She jostled you a little. “Wake up. It’s Carol! Please, wake up!”

You began to stir a little and a grimace contorted your features.

“Oh, thank God,” Carol sighed, hanging her head in relief for a very brief moment before the nausea seemed to rise into her throat again at your condition. “Y/N? Open your eyes, hun!”

You let out a small pained noise and then your eyes did open blearily. You were immediately trying to sit up, pushing yourself up on the palms of your hands but your head felt split in two and your muscles felt rubbery and weak. “Fuck,” you murmured.

“Whoa—okay. Easy! Take it easy!”

You reached up and touched the back of your head. It was swollen with a lump and tender and your fingers came away slightly sticky. You looked down at them and registered the deep color of drying blood. Your chest burned. You looked down to see that the whole front of your shirt was stained crimson. Your body ached and panged with sharp pains. You could feel your heartbeat in your face.

“Is anything broken? Can you stand up?” Carol asked, her brow heavy over her eyes, but the light inside frantic and quickly turning furious.

“I don’t think anything is broken,” you said softly. Your jaw ached. You gave it an exploratory wiggle left and right and immediately regretted it. Your bottom lip was split and swollen. You winced again. “What the fuck?” you murmured. “I mean what the ever-loving, royal fuck?” you growled. The hot rage welling up in you was pushing some of the pain back.

“Let’s just get you up and off the floor, okay? Slowly.” Carol helped you to your feet. Your head swam and you squeezed your eyes shut, not letting go of her hands for a long moment until you felt steadier. Her expression said enough about what you must look like… “What happened? Do you know who did this to you?” she asked.

You shook your head a little, absently pressing a hand to the burning sensation on your chest, but you stopped as the burn surged when your palm landed flush on your skin. You took in a sharp intake of breath through your teeth. “No. Well—I saw one of them… they lured me up here. Told me there was a water leak they found while doing the scrapping and—and then someone hit me on the head from behind and I was knocked out. But I don’t know why. I mean, why me?”

Carol’s expression was taught. Anger swirled in her eyes. She knew exactly why. You couldn’t see it yet, but the word was partially carved into your chest. That graffiti on the wall out on the factory floor was just the tip of the iceberg. Things were rotting here just under the surface, and since you’d once been Negan’s wife, she imagined you were a perfect target for those who wanted to make a point. “Let me see the back of your head,” she said. There was a small split in the skin where you’d been struck, your hair stained rusty red, but she didn’t think you’d need stitches there and she was extremely relieved that it wasn’t worse... not much anyone could do from something like a skull fracture in the apocalypse. She sighed heavily as another flame of rage wicked upwards in her chest. “Okay… Let’s get you back to your room. Hold onto my arm. Can you make it?”

You nodded, gripping her to steady yourself on your shaky legs, and allowed her to lead you away. You glanced back over your shoulder and were sickened to see the smears of your blood shockingly deep red on the tile behind you.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Carol had you sitting on the edge of your bed and she set down a first aid kit beside you. You were looking up at her from behind a wall of swelling and bruising on your face. You tenderly wiggled your jaw again, testing opening and closing your mouth. It felt ready to lock up. She could tell from the way you’d moved on the walk back and how you were slumped slightly forward now that there was probably substantial bruising beneath your clothes that she couldn’t see. Your movements were tentative and cautious.

You hadn’t looked in the mirror yet. You were afraid to. The pain was bad enough. The fogginess in your head was bad enough. You were worried if you saw the results of the beating, it would only make it worse, more real.

Carol began unpacking supplies. “Tell me everything you remember,” she said gently.

You shook your head. “Not much. Like I said, I was out working in the raised garden beds and somebody came up to me.”

“Who?” Carol pressed you. “If you don’t know their name, what did they look like?”

“Uhh… his name starts with a ‘G’ I think… Give me a second.” You filed through names in your head until you got the right one. “Graham. I think that’s it… He’s tall. Long black hair past his shoulders.”

“Okay,” Carol nodded, opening an alcohol swab. “What did he say exactly?”

“He asked if I could come look at a leak they found while they were moving all the scrap metal. He said they thought they could fix it but they’d have to turn the water off. I went to see and I was barely in the doorway of the room he pointed out. There wasn’t a water leak. I was just standing there, about to say something and—something hit the back of my head. I don’t really remember anything after that. Some foggy pain maybe but… mostly nothing.”

“Do you think there were others waiting up there? Or could it have just been him?” Carol asked, dabbing at a wound on the side of your face. You shut your eyes from the fumes of the alcohol. She was starting to worry about just how many traitors could be in the walls.

“There was at least one other person. When I got hit, I was looking back at him ten feet away from me down the hall.”

Carol sighed heavily and nodded. “Okay.” Her eyes drifted down to the cruelly carved letters on your chest. Your chin tilted down as you tried to look but her hand on your shoulder stopped you. “Hold on,” she said. Her face contorted with emotion she was trying to hold back. “Better you see this now. I’m so sorry.”

You gave her a perplexed look. You knew you were beat up but what was she—

Carol grabbed the small mirror off the little sink in the corner and held it up so you could see yourself for the first time. Initially, all you saw was the swelling and bruising on your face but then your breath caught in your throat. S-A- and part of a V, cut into your skin. The cuts were deep and she had already had to apply some butterfly bandages to hold certain spots closed. No wonder your skin had burned and stung there since you came back to consciousness.

You felt like you were about to be sick and Carol must have seen you pale because she hastily put down the mirror and gripped your shoulders again as if she was afraid you were going to faint. “Whoa. Deep breaths.”

Your eyes shut and you did your best to swallow down the nausea. “What the fuck,” you muttered, reeling. You blinked away angry tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get you cleaned up and then I think I have some of my special ointment in my bag. If you apply it at least once a day it’ll minimize any scarring…”

You let out a wry laugh. “Minimize,” you repeated. “But I’ll still have half of ‘Saviors’ carved into me for the rest of my life.” Tears burned in your eyes again. It wasn’t bad enough what you had gone through with Negan, with his men, with the war—now this? Would it ever be over?

Carol winced. “I’m so sorry… I had no idea things were this bad here.”

You sniffled and mopped gently at the tears that had broken out onto your cheeks. “I knew they were pretty bad but—can’t say I saw anything like this coming.”

“Well, who could? It’s—horrific.” She gave you a sympathetic look and then surprised you by pulling you gently into a hug for a long moment. Her eyes were teary now too when she pulled back, but she pulled herself together quickly. Back to business, she returned to the first aid kit and continued her ministrations. Your mind was endlessly turning.

“I wonder why they didn’t finish,” you suddenly said softly.

“Mmm,” Carol hummed, nodding, tossing down another soiled gauze pad and reaching for a new one. “They must have gotten interrupted. Maybe heard someone in that part of the building.”

Your eyes lifted and met hers. She paused at the expression on your face. “Do you think they were going to kill me? Leave me there with—with this cut into me to make a statement?”

Carol’s mouth dropped open and she shook her head. “I don’t—I don’t know,” she said, trying to keep her tone flat. Your question had been asked matter-of-factly and Carol was suddenly reminded of all you had gone through in the war and even before any of them had met you, when you’d just been a stranger with a mysterious backstory. “But obviously they knew they couldn’t take you in a fair fight. Fucking cowards,” she growled. “Had to ambush you to even have a chance.”

You sighed, shaking your head again, your eyes dropping to your hands. “They sure beat the shit out of me though,” you mused aloud. “It’s probably good Daryl isn’t here. He’d lose it,” you said, fiddling with another gauze pad which Carol took out of your hands and taped down over the now cleaned cuts below your collarbone.

She cleared her throat. “About that…”

You met her blue eyes again. “You radioed him? He’s probably way out of range by now. He’s probably already in Hilltop,” you said.

“Rosita rode out on the quad immediately to get within range. Eugene is doing a headcount as we speak to see who, if anyone, is missing…”

Another wry laugh left you and you nodded. “That’s why you took so long. And I just thought you couldn’t find the damn kit,” you said, shooting her a look, tears burning in your eyes. “Daryl is gonna go on a rampage,” you said softly.

Carol nodded. “Probably. But he should be here with you. And if I didn’t radio him, I’d be on the receiving end of that rampage. And I think we should focus it on the assholes that did this to you instead.”

You nodded and a sob tried to burst out of you. You suppressed it as best you could and it came out as a hitched breath. “Yeah,” you said, your voice a little strained.

Carol quickly grabbed you into a hug again. “Everything is going to be okay. Daryl will be here soon and we will figure this out.”

You hugged her back and nodded into her shoulder, grateful again for your found family.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl was there in an hour, stomping through The Sanctuary with Eugene at his heels, mostly ignoring the stream of words out of the mullet-headed Texan’s mouth. Rosita finally grabbed Eugene’s arm and stopped him, clearly realizing Daryl wasn’t hearing a word of it, didn’t give a shit about anything but going to see you. He was at the door of the little room the two of you had shared before anyone could come to tell you he’d arrived.

Daryl froze and made himself knock lightly, rather than barely in. The last thing he wanted was to startle you. His stomach turned as he waited to hear your voice on the other side, inviting him in. “S’me,” he drawled, the jittery feeling that permeated his body translating to an ever-so-slight tremble in his voice.

You sat up in bed. “Come in,” you said hurriedly, already feeling the tears burning in your eyes again. You were in clean clothes now and thoroughly patched up thanks to Carol, but that wasn’t going to change how rough you looked and how hard it was going to be for Daryl to see it.

The door opened slowly, measuredly, and he took shape in the doorway. He froze for only a split second as his eyes roamed over your face, taking in the swelling and already deep purple bruises. Then he rushed to you and hugged you in against him gently. That was all it took for you to go to pieces against him, clinging to his leather jacket. “Jesus, what the hell did they do to ya? ‘M sorry. ‘M so sorry I wasn’t here. I shouldn’ta left ya. ‘M so sorry, babe. I shoulda been here,” he said into your hair, kissing you on the top of the head, holding you gently so he wouldn’t hurt you but firmly so you knew you were safe.

You sniffled and mopped the tears from your cheeks as he clasped your face and brushed your hair back. “Don’t—don’t apologize. It’s not your fault,” you said, looking up into his blue eyes. They were stormy and turbulent. “You couldn’t know…”

“Lemme see ya,” he said, looking you over. His heart ached as you showed him the bruising on your stomach and ribs. “Sit back. Rest,” he said, climbing into bed beside you where you were propped up against the headboard and wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

You tucked in against him. He left a kiss in your hair again.

“Did—did Rosita tell you what they—that—”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “She didn’t tell me anything specific except that some assholes had hurt ya bad, beat ya up, and that I needed to get back here,” he said. “Tell me what?” His stomach churned around a hard knot. His mind began inventing all kinds of horrific scenarios immediately. What did you mean?

You could see him whirling and quickly tried to explain. “I was unconscious but—” Your hand landed on the gauze pad taped over the wounds below your collarbone. His eyes flitted down to it. “They used a knife and—” You couldn’t get any more words out so you simply lifted the bandage to show him, gingerly peeling back the medical tape and bandaging. Daryl froze completely. Every part of him stilled. He stared at the brutality someone had inflicted on you and hot rage boiled inside him. More tears leaked out onto your cheeks as you saw what it was doing to him to see that on you. You hastily covered it back up.

He softened again, coming back to himself, letting his anger flow away, and wiped the tears from your face with his thumbs. “Hey—it don’t matter to me what they—how they marked ya like that. Ya know that, right? Ya got every right to feel however ya feel ‘bout it. Ya do. But to me—” He shook his head. “It don’t matter, okay? I just see you. It’s all gonna be alrigh’.”

You collapsed into him again, finally letting yourself completely break down, wondering how the fuck you’d gotten so lucky as to find this man. He held you against his chest, his strong arms securely around you. He could feel the bump on the back of your head where they’d hit you. He could feel the swelling on your face and under your clothes, and he internally yelled at himself for leaving you behind, even if it was only supposed to be for a couple days, even though no one would have guessed that anything like this would happen, even though he knew how strong and capable you were. “‘M so sorry,” he murmured again. “I shouldn’t have left ya here… here of all places, with them.” His hands clenched into fists. “I’m gonna track down every one of these assholes and put ‘em in the fuckin’ ground,” he growled.

You couldn’t stand him blaming himself and you pulled yourself together. “It’s not your fault, Daryl. And—maybe… maybe I should have known something like this could happen…”

His brow furrowed. “What do ya mean?” He took a beat, his heart seemingly suspended somewhere in a gaping space that had opened in his chest. “Did somethin’ happen before this?”

You bit your bottom lip, your eyes still glassy. “No. No, not exactly. Nothing happened. I mean, people have—said things to me before. Made comments. I just—”

Daryl frowned, his brow heavy over his eyes, casting them in a deep shadow. “Like what? What kinda comments?”

You sighed and turned to face him more fully. You rested your hands on his sides. “Just—little shitty things. Because of what I’d been here,” you explained. “As Negan’s wife…”

Daryl was boiling again inside with anger. “Ya weren’t ever his wife,” he said. “That word means somethin’ else.” Your fingers went to touch the wedding band on your ring finger, the one Daryl had made with his own hands and given to you.

“Yeah. I know. It doesn’t matter,” you said quickly. “I just wrote them off and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want it to be a big deal and I knew how upset you’d get. It just felt like shitty people being shitty at the time. Mostly…”

“Mostly,” he growled.

“I never thought anything like this would happen. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.”

Daryl sighed and ducked his head, running his hands gently up and down the soft bare skin on your arms, marred with bruises and abrasions. “Don’t apologize. Ya didn’t do anythin’ wrong. I get why ya didn’t tell me… and yer righ’. I woulda beat the shit out of anybody sayin’ or doin’ anythin’ like that to ya. But tha’s my job. I wanna protect you.”

“I know,” you said. “We’ve just had so much on our plate here. I didn’t want to add something else. And I never thought—I didn’t think—” You grimaced as a wave of pain and dizziness hit you.

“I know. I know. Hey—it’s okay. We’ve talked ‘bout this enough. Ya need to rest. ‘M here now. S’okay.”

“I am really tired,” you agreed, shutting your eyes and waiting for the lightheaded feeling to pass.

He clasped your face again, his eyes flickering from this injury to that, and then he kissed your swollen lips as gently as he could. You managed to give him an overwhelmed, somewhat sad smile which he returned. “C’mon. Let’s lay down.”

Daryl helped you settle down on the mattress and fitted himself beside you. You tucked yourself against his body, breathed in his smell and safety, and shut your eyes. His fingers brushed through your hair, reassuring and grounding.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next morning Daryl was awake early while you slept on. He carefully, ever so slowly slipped out of bed and pulled a change of clothes on. He snuck out and headed to find Carol, Eugene, and Rosita.

He spotted Eugene first and nudged his head up in a nod as a greeting. “Well, what d’ya got to tell me?” Daryl asked hurriedly.

“We were short five of the former Saviors at the headcount last night, and five again this mornin’. Carol and Rosita have been questionin’ people all night. We don’t think anyone here knew anything about it. They weren’t exactly gentle with their lines of inquiry.”

Daryl rubbed a hand over his mouth and nodded thoughtfully. “Alrigh’. As I thought then... Cowards took off right afterwards.”

“Indeed. I suspect they knew Justice’s hammer would fall hard and swift on them once their atrocious deed was discovered,” Eugene agreed. “No way to know now where they’re headed.”

Daryl sighed. “Hopefully righ’ into a fuckin’ herd of walkers,” he drawled. “Alrigh’. Well, we need to send out runners to get word out to The Kingdom and Alexandria so ev’rybody can watch out for those pieces of shit... Y/N and I will take news to Hilltop today, and keep our eyes open for any sign of ‘em on the way. If I get sight of ‘em, I’mma strangle ‘em with my bare fuckin’ hands…” He sighed again, even more heavily this time. “Thanks. For everythin’ ya’ll did last night.”

“Of course,” Eugene said sincerely. “How is her condition today?”

Daryl sighed and shook his head. “She’s still asleep. She was exhausted. ‘M gonna get back up there. I dun want her wakin’ up here alone and ‘m still afraid there could be somebody in here—” he hesitated to speak his fear lest it become real. “She’ll be alrigh’. She’s tough. But she was shaken up pretty good and I can’t believe how bad they beat her up... and what they did,” he said vaguely, referring to the letterds on your skin. “But she’ll be okay.” He patted Eugene on the shoulder gratefully and headed straight back to you.

_ _ _ _ _ _

With hasty goodbyes and thank you’s to your close, chosen family, still at The Sanctuary you departed for Hilltop on the back of Daryl’s bike. You held extra tightly to him the whole way, and often his right hand left the handlebars to smooth over yours for a moment. The Sanctuary shrank smaller and smaller behind you and then disappeared into a cloud of dust. Neither of you knew it at the time, but you’d never come to that place again while it was a semi-functional community. It would be only ruins when you sheltered there during the storm eight years after the war.

On arriving at Hilltop, Maggie threw her arms around you and tears of shock filled her eyes when she saw your bruised and swollen face. Enid insisted on checking you over again, but gave you the all clear after much expressed anger and concern. Maggie quickly carved out a space for you and Daryl to stay, close to the room she shared with baby Hershel in the big house up on the hill.

Your body had stiffened overnight and on the bike ride. Every movement caused aches and pains to shoot through you and Daryl was attentive and worried as you settled into your new home. When you settled into bed at first, Daryl kissed every part of you where he could see a bruise or injury. His fingers were light and gentle on your skin, and you were amazed as you always were that he could be so soft when he was so strong. Finally, the sun sank below the horizon and you were again laying side by side, your head tucked up under his chin, listening to the whoosh of air in his lungs and his steady heartbeat.

“I had an idea,” you said softly, breaking a long but comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“Maybe when I’m all healed up, if—if it scars bad, I can get someone to do a tattoo over it to cover it up.”

Daryl smiled. You were already thinking ahead to the future, thinking of solutions. That was a good sign. He hugged you more tightly against him. “What would ya get?”

“I don’t know. Something pretty… to cover up something so ugly,” you mused aloud. “Like, there are these flowers that only bloom once in their lifetime and it can take decades to happen.”

“Nah, tha’s no good,” Daryl said quickly.

“What? Why?” you asked, looking up at him with surprise from beneath your lashes.

“It don’t fit ya. Yer bloomin’ all the time. Every day. Ya always have been, even when ya couldn’t see it,” he drawled. He pressed a kiss softly to your forehead.

You smiled at him sleepily.

“Was that too cheesy?” he asked with a gruff laugh.

“No. It was just the right amount,” you said. “Okay… maybe I’ll just get ‘Property of Daryl Dixon’,” you joked.

“No good. Ya ain’t nobody’s property. Ya belong only to yerself. ‘M just lucky that you share with me,” he said, his fingertips tracing vague shapes on the bare skin of your hip, exposed from the way your shirt had draped.

You sighed and nuzzled in against his neck. “I was only kidding,” you said, closing your eyes.

“I know. But it’s true.”

You yawned. “Maybe. But I do also belong to you, by my choice. I have since that night you fell through that rotten floor,” you said with a laugh. Daryl’s chest moved as he joined you with a low chuckle. In another minute, you were asleep. Daryl whispered ‘I love you’ into your hair, and shut his eyes too.

He meant what he’d said—he’d find whoever had hurt you and end them if he could, but after that, he wouldn’t allow the shadow of the past to dim another day. He’d walk with you forward, facing the sun in the same way you’d been doing together since the end of the war. And he hoped this time all of it, all the Saviors, The Sanctuary, the fear and pain, was really behind both of you.

[spidercookie18]

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒖𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝑯𝒊𝒅𝒆

The Lost Boys 1987 AU set in modern time. None of the boys died, and all the Emersons/Star/Laddie/Frog brothers are vampires. This is explained later…

Tags: Talks of manipulation, mentions of loss of family, death , hunting a p3do, mild gore, mild claustrophobia, mild nudity, smoking, scenting, marking, use of magic, use of y/n, afab, use of she/her, I aged the boys up because I personally don't like them as teens. Warnings: This chapter discusses toxic behavior, survivor mindset, death. Summary: Y/N tries to leave for work, and David's toxic behavior rears its ugly head. Word Count: 8.4k Previous chapter here: Next chapter here:

“No one should suffer what I suffered. I still dread those scenes when man killed man. I lost my parents, most of my family, by running away.” — Milkha Singh

Chapter Seven

Sunlight began trickling in through the cave. The gentle rays slowly rousing your sleeping form. You stirred, naked, spare for the blanket lain across your body. A dull ache throbbed in your lower half, and you smiled at the memories that played through your mind.

A soft buzzing on the ground let you know there was a message you needed to attend to. You tried to roll over off your back, to find your phone and see what the message was but were held down by something heavy around your waist. Scratch that, you weren’t naked, there was a vampire draped across your body.

David’s arm was across your stomach, and his leg across your thighs. You squirmed under his weight; you hadn’t noticed till now how his limbs pushed your body into the mattress. You looked down at his arm and leg strewn across your naked form, he was still fully clothed, you never understood why he refused to undress. 

But this fully clothed monster lover of yours had you trapped under him. You tried to pull your arm out from beneath his; he was heavier than you’d expected him to be. You curled your arms up to grab at his arm and tried to pull him off, no dice. The smell of the stale iron blood on his coat began wafting through your nose.

“David,” you spoke softly, trying to get him to wake up, but he continued to snore quietly. The itchy wool rubbing against your skin as you tried to move him. “David,” you patted his arm, like you were tapping out, “David?”

No response.

You wiggled your shoulder trying to push him off with your elbow, but you couldn’t get his arm to move. You shifted your hips side to side, trying to get unstuck from your suction cup mate. You were starting to panic, the feeling of being trapped settling in your bones.

“David. Get. Off,” you grumbled, flailing against the bed.

You huffed, “fuck!”

You’d managed to pull one arm free from him, and slowly forced his arm to slide down your body and off of you. “Christ, David, how much do you weigh?”

With both arms free now, you sat up and pushed his leg down your lower half. You panted, trying to calm down from your claustrophobic experience. Hot, and beginning to sweat, you rolled over, trying to get out of the bed.

“Mmmm, no.” David mumbled, throwing his arms around you, pulling you close and back against his chest.

“David,” you whined, “let gooooo.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbled into your back, not opening his eyes.

You growled in frustration. “David, too tight,” you complained.

“Tough,” his arms wrapped tighter around you, nuzzling his face against your skin, his beard scratching you gently.

You coughed, “I gotta breathe,” you wheezed out.

“Uugh,” David groaned, easing his hold on you, throwing his leg back around your hips, like you were his living body pillow.

You gasped at the crisp air being let into your lungs.

“Stop being dramatic,” David griped.

You were pressed flush against his chest; one of his arms under your armpit, the other over your ribs, and they met in the middle, closed around you. You made soft noises, like high pitched grunts and whines as you struggled against his hold.

“If you keep doing that, you’re gonna have to deal with it.” David mumbled behind you. You could feel his hand wander to your breast and grope it through the sheet.

You let out a squeak when you realized what he was talking about; the thing that was poking your ass.

He chuckled, “atta girl,” he sleepily peppered kisses along your shoulder and back. You could feel a soft rumble coming from him, like a gentle vibration through your body.

“Are you…” you tried to turn your head to look at him, “purring?”

“What of it?” He snapped, an agitation growing in his voice.

“Didn’t know y’all could do that,” you wiggled yourself closer to his chest, “I like it,” you hummed. You pressed a kiss to your fingers, then pressed the fingers to his hand.

He purred louder, and you smiled.

You could feel the purring in every inch of your body, all the way to your feet and back. After a short while, you felt the vibrations die down, becoming gentler and gentler with each passing minute.

You let him fall back asleep before you tried to get your phone again. You reached your hand over the edge of the bed, and waggled your fingers at the tote strap till you could pull it close enough to grab the bag. You rifled around in it till you reached your phone. You had a new notification. It was 4 in the afternoon, much too early for any of the boys to be awake.

** New Message: 8 Hours Ago**

“Ugh,” it was work. You swiped the screen up and unlocked the phone to read your message. You sighed and tapped on the screen to respond. David felt you moving around again, and he pushed the phone out of your hand.

“David,” you scoffed, annoyed at him, “knock it off.”

“You knock it off,” he grumbled, “go back to sleep.” He pushed your phone into the mattress and away from you.

You jutted your shoulder back to push him off and grabbed your phone to finish typing your message. “It’s work, give me a sec.”

“No.” He batted the phone with his hand, “sleep,” he fussed.

“David, seriously,” you adjusted your hold on the phone, your tone sterner now.

He groaned and you continued to tap on the screen, quickly reading the details and sending out a few messages to confirm order and pick up.

You tapped on the photo and snorted. “Just great,”

“Hmm?” David hummed against your back.

“Someone wants a damn werewolf.”

“The whole thing?”

“Yeah, guess it’s some guy on city council.” You angled the phone over your shoulder to show David the picture, “you know him?”

David opened his eyes and grabbed the phone to inspect the picture, his arm leaving from around your waist. “Nah,” he continued to look at the photo, “wait, actually yeah.” He pulled his other arm out from under you. David laid on his back looking at the photo. “Guy likes to hang around playgrounds, if you know what I mean.” He looked at you, giving a look of disgust.

“Me and the boys have had our eye on him for a while, but he’s always got an entourage with him. Fucker got a whiff of us once a while back and we haven’t been able to get close to him since.”

“Gross,” you said, motioning with your hand that you wanted the phone back from him, “but that does kinda help me.” 

“Hold on,” David started tapping on your phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting my number in your phone.” You watched as he took a picture of the both of you. Your messy hair, smudged makeup, and sleepy look against his chest as he smiled.

“Hey that’s a bad picture,” you spoke, protesting how you looked.

“S’fine,” he continued to tap on the screen. When he was satisfied, David let you take it and you looked at what he saved his contact name as.

“Seriously?” You chuckled. The contact name was saved under ‘D’ with a series of hearts and a vampire emoji. “Oh, I’m gotta change that,” you started tapping on the screen.

“What are you gonna save it as?” David smiled, kissing into your shoulder.

“Captain fuck face,” you giggled out.

David tried to snatch the phone from you, “hey, stop that!”

“Noooooo,” you squealed as he started grabbing at you.

He sat up and tried to pull the phone from your hands. “Change it back,” he sat on top of your waist and reached for your arms that you held above your head.

You tried to keep tapping at the screen while evading his grasp. He finally managed to get a hold of your wrist and pinned both of your hands above your head.

You smiled up at him and let the phone fall to your bag on the floor.

You panted; David stared down at you with a look of hunger, and you tried to make an innocent face to avoid punishment.

“You are gonna get it,” David growled. He shoved his face to your neck, nipping and biting against your skin.

You squealed and hollered at the feeling. You squirmed under him while his beard and teeth tickled you.

“Ahh stop! Stop!” You yelped, pulling on your arms; trying to get free, but David easily held your wrists with one hand. His other coming up under the blanket to scratch at your chest and stomach.

“David!” You squealed, giggling under the assault of his mouth.

“Say you’re sorry,” he barked into your skin. You continued to giggle. “Say it,” he was teasing of course, but still enjoyed the sight of you.

“I’m s-so- aahh!”

“Will you guys shut the fuck up!”

“It’s too early for this!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

The other boys yelled from the roost.

David snapped his head in the direction of the boys, “ahh shut up, you’re just jealous!”

“Booooo, boo David,” one of them yelled, and they all started booing.

You chuckled at them all, and David turned back to you, “fuckin’ fuckers.”

“I was only kidding,” you giggled.

David came down to peck your cheek with a kiss, “I know darlin’.”

He let go of your wrists and rolled off you. He laid on his back and kicked his arms and legs out. He yawned as he stretched, his arms and feet wiggling, smacking his lips as he let his limbs rest on the bed. David looked over to you while you sat up in the bed, rubbing the bite marks along your chest.

You let your fingertips trail over the purple marks. You felt David watching you, “take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Dunno where my phone is,” David laid on his side, watching you. “Guess I’ll have to make more when I find it.”

You rolled your eyes, “smooth.”

“Thanks,”

“I meant your brain,” you chuckled.

He huffed, “you’re gonna make me weep.”

You ignored him and began to look for the clothes you’d packed in your bag. Lord knows what David and Marko had done with your panties. You pulled a new pair from the tote and began to slip them up your legs.

“Well, I guess I aught ta head home soon,” you yawned, looking back at your lover.

“You’re seriously going after him?” David asked.

You reached for a shirt from your bag, a clean one, not the bloodied mess of a shirt you’d need to seriously disinfect. “I mean, not right now…” you replied, sarcastically. You looked for the shorts you had on last night.

“No,” David said simply.

“No?” You stared at David, holding the shorts in your hand, dumbfounded by his ‘matter of fact’ attitude.

“He’s too big for you to take down by yourself.”

You began to put the shorts on, “you just told me he knows you guys were after him. He obviously knows your guys’ scent.”

“I’m not letting you do it alone,” David stared at you, distressed, “we do things as a pack.”

You sighed, “It’s fine, it’ll only take a few days to-”

“A few days??” David stood from the bed, staring at you in disbelief. “You’re not doing it, end of discussion!”

You stared at him from where you stood by the other end of the bed; shock, and anger coursing through your veins. “I’m not asking for your permission, David.”

You both stared at each other; unyielding to the other.

The tension in the air was rising. You could feel your fists clench on reaction, and you watched as David clenched and unclenched his jaw.

You slowly walked to him. You tried to put your hand on his cheek to get him to look at you, but when you reached for him, he turned away. You sighed and sat on the bed; dejected. Unsure what to say, you sat quietly, while the minutes passed by.

“I’ll only be gone about four nights,” you whispered.

You weren’t going to let him talk you out of it, but pushing the matter would drive a wedge between you two. After being alone for so long, you almost forgot that you needed people. Even if David and the boys weren’t ‘people’, you knew in your heart that you needed them. You couldn’t bear to lose another family.

“Why so long?” David spoke, half turning to look at you.

“I’ve got to get y’all’s smell off me,” you joked, taking a handful of your hair and pressing it to your nose. “Whoo,” you took your hair away and sneezed, “you guys have been scenting me after all.”

David turned to look at you, his hands coming to your shoulders. His eyes shifted over your features, a nervous look across his face. “I…” he didn’t know what to say. He hated the thought of you being away. What if you needed them, what if they needed you?

You stared up at him, not wanting to make him feel like you were running away. You moved one of his hands to your cheek, and held your hand over his. “I can handle it,” you sounded sure of yourself. “Do you trust me?”

His eyes locked onto yours. Everything in him saying not to let you go, his instincts screaming against his mind.

“David?” Your soft doe eyes cutting through his thought. Of course, he wanted to trust you, but where had that gotten him. He wasn’t about to let another one of his mates run off where he couldn’t protect them.

“You can’t,” his words were like daggers in your heart. “I can’t let you do it,” his blue eyes holding your gaze. It was like you were about to fall into them, you could barely focus.

“D-da-,” you could feel him trying to sway your mind. If he couldn’t persuade you, he’d resort to his old tricks. The worst side of him always came out when he was frightened.

You felt the well of tears start to fill your eyes. His thrall more powerful than what he’d tried on you before; he had much more magic than you’d ever anticipated.

David watched the tears in your eyes overflow and spill down your cheeks. The ache in his undead heart growing. He knew this was wrong; he understood it, even through his fear.

After a second, you felt the fog in your mind dissipate. As soon as David released his thrall on you, you pulled from his grasp. You pushed your arms to the mattress and scooted back and away from him.

David tried to move, to reach out to you.

“Don’t,” you put your hand out. “Just, don’t.” You pulled your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around your legs.

“Y/N, I-“

“Just save it David,” you snapped at him. You hid your face in your legs in an attempt to hide your tears. Your voice came out muffled, “I don’t want to hear it.”

There was a pang in your chest. A sharp, stabbing pain, like your heart was breaking. You tried to will the anguish away, but it was no use. The tears easily flooded your vision. You felt so small in that moment, and you sobbed, quietly.

The sound of David’s clothes shifting let you know he was moving around. You could hear him standing next to you now. You felt his hand rest on your shoulder, and you pulled away on response. He let out a sigh, and you heard him begin to walk off.

You stayed in the bed, still clutching your legs, you watched as he walked off towards his alcove. He stood in his mess of memories he’d saved; he was looking for something, but you didn’t care about that. The only thing you could think or feel in that moment was the hurt in your chest, the anger that began to course through your veins.

How could you trust him so easily when he was just the same? The same as what you ran away from.

He’s just like what we promised we’d never let ourselves live through again.

No, he isn’t, he was kind, he’d shown us that. Until now, he’d never given us a reason not to trust him.

Now? Now we’d known him not even a month, and he already tried to lock us away.

But he didn’t. He stopped; he knew it was wrong! It was just a lapse in judgeme-

A lapse in judgement? Look what that got us last time!

You were at odds with yourself. The fear of your old life seeping through your own thoughts. You clutched your legs harder.

You heard the soft sounds of someone walking towards the bed.

“Here,” David sat down on the bed next to you. You looked up from over your knees, still half hiding your face. He was holding out the photo album to you.

“I’ve already seen that,” you grumbled, hiding your face back into your legs.

He exhaled and scooted a bit closer to you on the bed. “Yeah, I know you went snooping through my stuff,” he joked. “But you never asked me the story behind them,” he opened the picture album. The sticky plastic pages making a noise, like soft Velcro, as he flipped through them.

You looked up, still holding your legs close to your chest.

He picked up a dingey paper that was placed within a plastic holder. The paper was small, maybe four inches by two. The plastic card holder wasn’t much bigger. The clear plastic that covered the paper was a dirty, brownish yellow. He held it out for you to take it. You sheepishly put it in your hands, and you read what you could. You could barely make out his first name, and a year that read, ‘1860-something?’

“What is this?” You brought the paper closer to your face, trying to make out more of what it said.

“It’s my death certificate.”

You looked up at him. His tone so casual and lighthearted for what the paper was.

He chuckled, “yeah,” he leaned in to look at it too. He looked, almost reminiscent, maybe of his past life. His gaze softening as he looked at the paper, you let him take it from you. He gently thumbed over the dirty yellow plastic. He spoke, and his snickering got louder as he did, “y’know what they ruled for cause of death?”

You silently shook your head.

David was laughing now, “they said, they said it was ‘complications from gangrene.’” He waved his hand in front of his face “Course you’re gonna get gangrene when the fucking doctor is using the same tools on everyone. And,” he was laughing again, “and you know what the complications were?”

You stared at him, not moving. Waiting to see how this would play out.

“The complications, pfft, were from the doctors, ha-ha, cutting my fucking stomach open to pull out those goddamned .44’s!” He stayed laughing to himself. You were sure he was doing this to try and hide his real emotions.

You could see through it; he was angry, he was hurt.

“God damned friendly fire mother fuckers,” he gritted his teeth. You watched as his fist gripped at the sheet below him. “All because I was kind to someone from a different race,” he snorted. He chuckled, then exhaled, long and shaky, like he was picturing their faces in his mind.

You let your legs go and reached a hand out to David’s arm. He slowly regained his train of thought, and his ragged breathing slowed.

“I was, uh,” he paused; his eyes shifted nervously between you and the certificate in his hands. “I was 21 when I died,” he sighed out. “21 fucking years old. And all I have to show for it is this paper.” He gripped the plastic between his fingers. “This… this was all they sent home. There was no funeral, no headstone, no one cried when I died.” He stared off towards the ground, then back at you. “Not a single person cared that I was dead.”

He got silent for a moment, then placed the paper back in the book and began flipping through the pages again, “course, nobody got headstones in those days. Hell, if Max hadn’t found me when he did, I’da probably just been kicked into some ditch with the rest of-” he stilled. His mind flooded with the twisted and contorted faces of the dead soldiers he came to call his brothers.

“The worst part, is not dying.” He continued to flip through the pages of the book, his tone solemn, not looking at you. “Yeah, the pain isn’t great. It was fucking horrible. The waiting to die wasn’t fun either,” he tittered. “But, the worst part is not being able to protect those you care about.”

He reached his finger behind a picture, a bland image of a tree. He pulled out a folded hand drawn image from behind a polaroid. He unfolded the drawing, the paper was a deep orange, and the image was a smudged pencil, or maybe charcoal. It was a drawing of a young man and a woman. They held each other, the features were a bit smudged, but they appeared to be smiling.

David turned the paper for you to see, not willing to let it go. “This is my mom and dad,” his thumb slightly rubbed the edge of the old paper.

You stared at the couple, “they look so in love,” you smiled as you spoke.

“They were,” David started. “She always talked about how kind he was, how she wanted me to be like that. Brave, and smart, and kind.” He angled the paper a bit more for you to see, “but he died before I met him.”

His finger traced the outline of his mother’s face, “when she got sick, I tried to take care of her… but I was just a boy.” A smile grew on his face, remembering her, “she used to make the best pigeon pie,” he chuckled, “but, er, don’t tell Marko.” He looked back at you, “he says his birds are meant ‘to be loved, not to be eaten’,” David rolled his eyes. 

You snorted and relaxed your legs a bit.

“She taught me to sew, cook, forage, how to clean a fish, heh, she even taught me how to waltz.”

“Oh yeah?” You relaxed a bit more.

“Mhm,” you could hear the happiness in his voice. “She said she wanted me to be ‘a gentleman’, think I kinda missed the mark on that one,” David sighed.

“You’ve got her smile,” you tried to ease his mind.

David chuckled, he let his lip curl up to reveal his fang and licked his forked tongue across the sharp tooth, “eh, not anymore I don’t.”

You and David stared at the picture quietly. He spoke in a whisper, “she’d be real ashamed of the man I’ve become.” He pulled the plastic behind the polaroid and slipped the drawing back behind it.

David continued to flip through the book and found an image of him and the boys.

They were all wearing cuffed, pressed jeans. White t-shirts, and a flannel or their jackets; the collars were all ‘popped’ up. Their hair was slicked back; spare for Marko, whose curls were clearly defined in the old picture. Marko and Paul stood next to each other, their hands in their jacket pockets. Dwayne stood between David and Paul, his thumbs in his pant pockets, and David stood off on the right. His hands were clasped in front of his hips, they were all smoking cigarettes.

“This is the first picture we all took together.” David pulled the picture out of the album and handed it to you. “We’d been taking pictures of each other all night, but Max said we needed one of all of us.”

You took the photo in your hand.

“Nobody liked Max at that point; he’d been a real buzzkill all week. Getting on everybody’s nerve, trying to tell us what to do, saying we were being too ‘obnoxious.” David grunted, “course, I had to wrangle everyone up for the damn picture… but Dwayne has never listened to him,” he laughed. “So, I had to get everyone together.”

You brought the picture closer to your face to see the detail better. Marko already had a few patches on his jacket, David had his medal and the buttons, but the coat was different. Paul had a safety pin on his flannel, and Dwayne had his key necklace. He and Paul didn’t have their matching eye rings yet.

David leaned in to look at the picture too, he pointed at himself in the image. “That’s me,”

You leaned away a bit, “yeah, I got that.”

He pointed to Dwayne, “Dwayne lost his wife and kids in the red scare.”

You looked at David, surprised by his candid remarks.

“He was…I think 24 when we found him.” He moved his finger to Paul. “Paul’s sister drowned; he was 23 when he met us.” He pointed to Marko, “Marko lost his family to a house fire.” He looked at them all in the picture with a heavy heart, “he was 22 when I found him.”

You kept your gaze on David, unsure how to react. “So,” you started, “you’re not the oldest,” you joked.

David snorted, “not in human years, but that doesn’t matter now, eh?” He turned his head to you, his eyes full of guilt, “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

You scoffed and handed him back the picture. You scooted away from him a bit.

He turned his body, and reached out to you, “I am, I’m sorry. I-“

“I don’t forgive you,” you said angrily.

“You don’t have to; I just need you to know that I’m sorry.” His hands fumbled with the paper, he set it down on the album and moved it to the side. “I just…” his hands turned up, silently asking for your hands.

You hesitated, not entirely wanting to give him your hands. You stared at him, slowly putting your hands in his open ones.

He eagerly took them, and gently squeezed your palms.

“I needed you to see this stuff, I’m not like this just because, I don’t want anyone else getting hurt. I don’t want you getting hurt.” His eyes searched over your features, hoping he’d gotten through to you.

You turned your face so you wouldn’t have to look at him. Your eyes fell on the photo album, the full pages making your mind wander to all the things David showed you.

“I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. Please,” David leaned close to your face now, and you tried to keep from looking at him. “I’m sorry, I just- if you need help, you know you can call us, right?”

You looked back at him. You saw his eyes flicker across your face, you saw his nostrils flare, and his face pinch with anxiety.

“You know that, right?”

You gave in, “I know that,” your voice sounded tired.

He pressed his forehead against yours, “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You were still angry with him, still hurt. You could feel him purring again, it was soft, but you could feel it. Maybe if he was willing to change, you were willing to be patient.

David nuzzled his face against yours, and into the crook of your neck.

“I don’t want you to feel unsafe with me, with any of us.” His beard scratching at your skin as he continued to nuzzle you, “please, I’m sorry.”

You could feel him starting to nip at your flesh,

His nipping and pawing at you started to tickle, “okay, okay, just stop,” you gasped out.

You thrust your hands to his shoulders and pushed him away. “Calm down already,” you were giggling.

He brought your arm to his mouth and kept biting at your skin.

“Daaavid,” you heard one of the boys call from the roost.

You were trying to pull your arm from David’s grasp, while he ignored the other vampire calling to him.

You looked behind David; Marko was the first to wake, probably because he was such a light sleeper. He stood in the entrance to the roost, his hair disheveled from his sleep.

Marko walked around barefoot, switching between scratching his hair and his crotch. “David,” he called to his brother, “you gonna let er’ go do her thing?”

David ignored the curly haired blond, the banter he was trying to start wasn’t of importance to him at this moment.

“You could hear us?” You asked Marko, leaning back and away from David.

“Course we could. With David being a weenie about the whole thing.”

David kept kissing and nipping at your wrist, with his free hand, he flipped off Marko.

“Right back atcha buddy,” Marko chuckled and flipped off David as he walked off somewhere.

“We’ve been trying to tell ya,” Marko called out, undoing his pants and walking over to a deep hole off on the far side of the cave. “Max has been bitching about you falling behind on chores!” His voice echoed off the walls softly and you could hear him urinating, and sighing.

You pulled on your arm, and David finally released with a groan. “That lazy fucker never wants to do his own ‘dirty work’,” David grumbled. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before he walked over to the couch, waiting for the others to wake up. He kicked his legs out on one of the cushions, wiggling his toes through his torn socks.

You tried to ignore the sound of Marko urinating and looked for your socks and shoes. The sound of him groaning and mumbling to himself was audible as it echoed through the cave. You gathered the rest of your things and sat on the edge of the fountain.

David smiled at you, and watched you slip your socks on.

You sat on the fountain, slipping your shoes on, “really? Y’all in your 20’s?”

“Mhm, people think we’re younger a lot,” David toyed with one of the buttons on his coat. “It’s cause we’re so hot,” he teased, pretending to brush some 'long' hair out of his face.

You scoffed, “sure.”

You watched as one of the other boys came from the dark part of the cave. It was Dwayne, he was rubbing his eyes, and you could see his long dark hair flow as he walked, the wind catching it lightly.

Marko started walking back to where the couch was, you could still hear him scratching himself through the denim of his jeans. “Hey, come on man, put your dick away,” he griped at Dwayne, and you looked back to the brunet that’d come out of the roost.

He was fully naked. Standing proud and tall as he stretched his hands above his head.

You could feel a flush come to your face. You blushed, hard, trying to avert your gaze.

Now you knew why he walked like that.

David laughed at your reaction, watching you stare at the floor.

“David, tell the horse to go back to the stables,” Marko complained.

Dwayne finished his stretch and languidly flipped off Marko, still yawning with his other hand to his face. Through the corner of your eye, you watched his smile, the large, sharp teeth in his mouth catching your curiosity.

“Let him be, Marko,” David snorted. He patted his lap for you to go join him on the couch, and you obliged.

You sat atop David’s lap with your back leaning against the couch, he was sat up against the arm and you both watched as Dwayne went to go collect his pants from Paul’s alcove.

“Why did no one wake me up?” Marko asked David and Dwayne, alluding to the fact that there continued to be, ‘bonding’ after he went to sleep.

“Cause we were busy,” David laughed out, his deep voice rumbling through his chest and vibrating through your side.  “Right darlin?” David jostled you in his lap.

“You guys coulda at least told me, or something…assholes,” Marko continued to grumble. He walked over to the couch and sat on the last cushion, pushing David’s feet away.

“Now who is being a weenie?” David snorted.

“Ah ha you’re so fucking funny,” Marko sassed. He leaned over to press a kiss to your cheek, “mornin’, bella.”

You were still blushing when Marko kissed your cheek, and he knew it was because you weren’t used to seeing such a display as the one before you. This cocky vampire, parading himself through the halls of the cave, stark naked aside from his necklace.

“You better be getting dressed over there!” Marko chuckled; he’d cupped a hand to his face to amplify his voice.

You looked over to Paul’s alcove and could see a hand shoot up over the pile of crap Paul kept, to flip Marko off. You could hear Dwayne slip his legs through the jeans, he walked over with the button and zipper undone.

His bare feet gently rapping against the floor as he walked back to where you all were sitting. With himself put away, you sheepishly looked up to the brunet. The denim jeans were hanging off his hips, you weren’t entirely sure how they were staying up so well. His treasure trail was thick, and you had to pull your eyes away from where his downed zipper ended.

Your eyes tracked up his abdomen, and David bounced you in his lap, poking fun of your curious eyes. Dwayne’s fingers were in his hair, brushing the mane out of his face. “You okay?” Dwayne asked looking down at you, with genuine concern. The years of unashamed behavior making him forget that this wasn’t normal behavior for when someone had ‘guests’.

“She’s fine,” David smiled, bouncing you in his lap again

“She’s not used to watchin’ your big ole’ dick swing around like that,” Marko interjected.

Dwayne had about enough of Marko poking at him, “oh, I’ll swing this dick, keep talking like that.” He pointed his finger in Marko’s face.

The blush coming back to your cheeks. David heard you squeak and it made him laugh.

“Alright that’s enough you guys, you’re scarin’ her,” David spoke up.

Marko flipped Dwayne off and reached over the side of the couch to grab a beer. He popped the tab and it hissed. Dwayne stuck his tongue out at Marko and put his hands out to ask for a can. Marko tossed him one and Dwayne popped the tab and took a sip.

David had his hands around your waist, and he let his hands wander to the waist band of your shorts.

“Not on your life, mister,” you snapped at him.

“Yeah, I know,” David spoke, dejected, “you’re still mad.”

“Damn right I’m mad,” you pouted at him.

He placed a kiss on your arm, “that’s fine. Oh, don’t forget to send me that picture.”

“You’re pretty cute when you’re mad,” Marko spoke up.

David bounced you in his lap a bit and you rolled your eyes at them.

“Marko’s right though, David,” Dwayne spoke. He wiped a drop of beer off his lip with his thumb, David and Marko looked at him. “Max has been asking for you a lot, he said if you didn’t stop by soon, he’d have to come looking for you.”

David groaned, picking you up off his lap and standing you up. “Fucking guy,” he turned in the couch and his feet landed on the ground. “Can’t ever have anything nice.” David patted your ass and you jumped, he stood and looked back to the roost. “Where’s Paulie?”

“He was pretty ticked off with you guy’s waking him up earlier, so he’s probably still asleep,” Marko said, bringing the can to his lips, slurping the liquid.

“Paul!” David yelled in the direction of the roost.

No response.

David walked over to the entrance of the roost and hollered again, “PAUL!”

No response.

David sighed, shaking his head. He looked over to the boys and turned back to the roost. Marko covered his ears and Dwayne covered yours. The last thing you heard before you felt Dwaynes large hands clasp the sides of your head, was the beer cans hitting the floor. You all watched David open his mouth to take a deep inhale.

“PAAAAAAUUUUULLL!”

“WHAT?! FUCK! WHAT!!”

“Paul, come say goodbye!”

“GOODBYE! FUCK!” Paul was screeching from the roost.

Dwayne removed his hands from the side of your head, and you turned to look at him. He was wincing with pain as he rubbed his ears, and Marko stuck his fingers in his ears to shake them out.

You rubbed your ears too, even with Dwayne covering them for you, it was painful to hear David scream like that. You felt it through your bones, you thought the sound had shaken the cave. You could still hear a ringing in your ears.

The boys had discarded their beer cans when they rushed to protect themselves from David’s scream; and now, the yeasty brown liquid gushed on the floor as the can’s laid on their sides.

“Gah!” Marko griped, still wiggling his finger in his ear, “I hate when he does that!” You could hear him hissing, or maybe that was from the scream.

“Don’t make me yell again, Paul.” David stood, with his hands on his hips.

“FINE!” You heard Paul land with a thud. “FUCK!”

“Dumb idiot forgot to turn again,” Dwayne chuckled, still rubbing his ears.

You heard Paul grumble as he walked up out of the roost. His feet scraping along the ground as he forced himself to come out where the others are. You watched as his wild blond hair turned the corner. His pants were half on, and he didn’t have his shirt or jacket, “What the hell do you want,” he hissed at David.

David gestured to where you stood, “Y/N is gonna be out of the cave for a few days.”

The other boys looked at you, surprised you were leaving. “I wanted to give ya a chance to say bye before she left.”

With that, Paul ran over to you and scooped you up by the waist. He held you easily a foot off the ground and shook you around in his hug. “Aww nooooo, whyyyyy?” His groggy, whiney voice piercing your already sensitive ears.

“Fuck, Paul chill out,” Marko continued to wiggle out his ear.

“P-Paul,” you choked out, your arms pushing against his shoulders, trying to break free. “I’ll be back in a f-few days!”

Paul stopped swishing you about and held you against him, still half in the air. He smooshed his face into your breasts and let out another whine, “but I didn’t even get to play with yoouuu-“

“Paul, let her go man,” Dwayne walked behind you and tried pry Paul’s hands off from around your waist. “Dude, put her down,” he grunted, trying to pull him off you.

“Nooooo,” Paul wailed.

Dwayne finally managed to get one of Paul’s fingers back and pull the rest of his hand and arm away from you. With his free arm, Dwayne wrapped himself around your waist and pulled you away from Paul. He set you down gently to his side and kept Paul away with the other.

“Knock it off dude, she already said she’s coming back.” Marko called to him from the couch.

Dwayne turned you to him. He cupped your face in his hands and thumbed over your cheeks. “Can’t wait for ya to get back, short stuff,” he placed a kiss on your nose, and you could feel the blush come back to your face.

You stuttered out a chuckle and Marko stepped you back from the brunet. “Real smooth, Casanova,” he poked at Dwayne.

“You’re gonna get it,” Dwayne eyed Marko as he walked back to the roost to find his jacket.

Marko rolled his eyes at the brunet, of course he knew what he was doing when he antagonized him. He turned his attention back to you; he pressed his forehead to yours and clasped his hand around the back of your head. His free hand cupping your cheek. “See you soon, bella,” he rubbed his nose against yours. You could feel him inhaling you; he softly kissed your lips, and slowly pulled from the embrace.

Marko took Paul by the hand and led him back to the roost, “come on you, let’s get you washed up.” Paul still sniffled as he turned to look at you one more time and waved goodbye.

You looked at David, who was watching the others walk off down the tunnel.

“Talk about a bunch of ‘weenies’,” he chuckled.

“Geez, the way they were acting, you’d think I was never coming back,” you rubbed your arm sheepishly.

David looked at you, “you are coming back, right?”

“Well…yeah?” You stood, studying his reaction. “Yes, for the hundredth time, I’m coming back,” you walked a bit to him, “I forgive you, ya big baby.” He closed the distance between you two. His hands slowly coming up around your waist. “Besides,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “you’d hunt me down if I didn’t.”

He laughed heartily into your skin. “No, I wouldn’t,” he chuckled out.

You cocked your head, as if to question his statement.

“Okay, yeah, I would.” he pressed his nose to your cheek. You could hear him purring softly, as he pressed a quick kiss to it.

“Or at least Paul would,” you tittered, “is he…going to be okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” David pulled from you to go find his key, “just gotta give him some lovin’ when you get back. He’s a bit sensitive.” He waived his hand nonchalantly in the air.

You could hear some screaming coming from where the others walked off to.

“No! I don’t want to take a bath!”

You looked at David, a confused look on your face, “um?”

“NO! STOP! Y/N HELLLPPP!”

“PAUL, YOU NEED A BATH!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO-”

David quickly produced his keys and grabbed your hand to lead you away from the screaming, “that’s our cue.” He swiftly turned you around and walked you out of the cave; you heard a series of yelps and yowls as you left.

David pulled up outside of your house on the driveway. He didn’t turn to look at you, he just sat on the idling bike, his head hanging low.

You moved your hand from around his midsection and placed it on his shoulder. “Hey,” you softly spoke, and he half turned to look at you. “It’s okay,” you wrap your arms back around him in a sympathetic hug.

He snorts and turns the bike off. David stood and got off the bike. He put his hand out to help you off, and you gently squeezed it as you stood. Your foot got caught on the seat as you tried to get off and you stumbled into David’s arms.

“Heh, if you wanted me to hold, ya, you coulda just asked,” David smiled down at you.

You scoffed and straightened your clothes. David began to walk you up the porch steps and you followed suit. When you got in front of the door, he turned to you. Something weighed heavy on his mind, though he tried not to show it.

“You really gonna make me stay away for four nights?” He held your hand in his.

You could feel his grip tightening as he waited for your answer. His eyes darting across your features, the look on his face making your heart ache.

You placed your free hand atop his and gently rubbed it with your thumb. “We both have things we need to do,” you reminded him, and his grip tightened more.

He grumbled and looked away from you, “I’m gonna come looking for you, the second the sun goes down.”

You chuckled, “I’d expect nothing less from a ‘big scary vampire’.”

He pulled you closer to him and growled against your neck, “you’re mine.” He nipped at the skin, “don’t you forget it.”

“Like you’d let me,” you laughed out.

“Damn straight,” he held you against him. David inhaled your scent, trying to hold onto you for as long as he could.

You both reluctantly pulled away from each other, and he waited on the porch as you opened the doors to go inside. He half expected you to still invite him in, and stifled his grief when you didn’t.

He stood on the porch, in the darkness, as he watched the lights inside turned off.

Once again, that annoying feeling was gnawing at the back of his head. He gritted his teeth, trying to will it away. No luck. David stomped back to his bike. He knew if he stood there any longer, he wouldn’t be able to drag himself away. He headed back home; it was killing him, but he couldn’t stay there.

The roar of the bike sounded as he started it. He pushed his feelings down and focused on getting home.

The bike rolled to a stop. He kicked the stand out and sighed as he got off. David knew he should get your scent off too, that way Max couldn’t yell at him. He stood on the edge of the cliff, watching the tide roll in.

David pulled out a cigarette from his coat and lit it. He brought the collar of the jacket to his nose and inhaled your scent. He hated that he was going to have to get your smell off him and his clothes. He cursed Max under his breath. He stared at the waning moon for a moment, wondering how things could be, if they had been different.

Did you love him for who he was? Could you love him and all his flaws? All the hate and anger that bubbled under the surface; the monster he believed himself to be?

He took a long drag of the cigarette, loathing the thought of how he never lived up to his mother’s expectations. How he longed to be kind, to be brave, to be the gentleman she always wanted him to be. He scorned himself for these thoughts.

“Fuck this,” he scoffed. He looked down at the water as it lapped up the edges of the lighthouse and turned to go home.

David walked down into the cave, feint whines and grumbles echoed off the walls as he stomped down the ‘stairs’. He stood at the base of the entrance watching his brothers hold down and dry off Paul.

Paul, was sat on the floor, in a towel, with Marko standing behind him, brushing and drying his hair out. Paul had his hands wrapped around his front in a pout.

He hated baths, and more, he hated not getting to dry off the way he wanted.

“Ya have to chase him down again?” David asked, sarcastically, because he already knew.

“What do you think?” Dwayne replied. He was sat in front of Paul and Marko, with a belt in his hand, waiting for Paul to try and take off.

Paul didn’t particularly care about being clean or dirty, but he hated getting his hair wet. He said it made him feel like a ‘wet rat’ and avoided it whenever he could.

Marko ran a brush through his hair, and with his magic he turned on a hair dryer. It was a peculiar sight; a normal hairdryer, except it had no cord, no outlet, no electricity, and it still turned on.

Paul happily wiggled around on the ground, chirping. He tilted his head back and shook his hair out in the warm air. He liked this part at least, and Dwayne stood to stretch.

“Hold still!” Marko grabbed Paul by the top of his head and straightened his sight. “Stay!” He scolded his brother, and Paul pouted, still wiggling with the feeling of the warm air.

Marko gently brushed Paul’s hair, and he hummed to him trying to keep Paul still. David walked over to his alcove, looking at all his things. He nudged a box with his foot and sat in the cot in the middle. He looked at all the things around the space and sighed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time.

Fuck, it’s only 8? David thought, he hoped it was much later in the night.

He saw a message from an unsaved number. He figured it was you. He saved the number and pointed the camera at the boys. He snaped a picture and sent it to ‘Babydoll <3’.

He looked over at his brothers, who were still bickering about Paul and his ‘grooming habits’.

New Message: Now

He opened it,

‘omg, is he okay?’

David started tapping at the screen. ‘Yeah, he’ll survive.  He just hates baths.’

He stared at the phone, waiting for your reply. After a minute his phone vibrated.

New Message: Now

‘Well good luck with them, lol.’

One Attachment:

David looked at the photo you’d sent him. It was the one he took on your phone earlier. He gently traced the outline of your lips and face with his finger, he stared at the image, and smiled.

‘I almost forgot to send it.

See you soon. <3’

David stared at the messages and the picture. His smile slowly faded, he grunted. What was he going to do these next few days while he waited…That nagging feeling was back.

He stood up, dropping his phone on the cot and took off his boots. He emptied his pockets and took off his coats. Barefooted, he walked towards the mouth of the cave.

David was going to walk around in the sea for a while till his mind cleared.

[mintys-musings]

Nazuna Nito x GN!Reader - Study Break

NAZU DAAAAAAAAAAAAAY NAZU DAY NAZUNII MY BELOVED WAAAAA

Summary: The uni library has study rooms you can rent out for 2 hours at a time if you need the privacy to focus. That’s what Nazuna had told you. And you both agreed to meet up in one to study for an upcoming exam together. He’s always so kind to you and took time out of his busy schedule to help you out. If only studying wasn't so fucking boring. Tags: library sex (kinda-), brat tamer!Nazuna, brat!reader, spanking, use of underwear as a gag, mild degrading (because I’m predictable pt. 2), thigh fucking (briefly) Word count: 1834

NSFW under cut~

30 minutes into the study session, you grew bored of looking over previous tests and Nazuna’s silence as he looked over his own work. It has been a while since it was just the two of you in a room. Uni and work took up most of your time. Nazuna had to juggle his comeback as an idol. An impressive feat in your eyes, but it made for a terrible time scheduling things with him. 

Whenever you were free, he had a concert- a handshake event- a CD signing- whatever. Whenever he was free, you had work- you promised to go drinking with friends- you had a meeting with a circle you were a part of- it never lined up. So for the one time you both were free in how many weeks to be spent in silence? Unacceptable. You took matters into your own hands.

Quite literally- You trail your hand along his thigh, running your fingers along where his dick was resting in his pants. “Nazuna~ I’m bored~” You whine.

Nazuna visibly tenses and you can feel a slight little twitch under your fingertips. “Not now, honey,” he says, “We can have fun after study time is up.” He still has his patience about him and gently removes your hand from its place on his thigh. “I promise I’ll make it up to you. But we both gotta focus on studying right now.”

You pout. Well that was no fun. You weren’t going to wait that long. For a moment, you look like you were complying with his compromise, shuffling papers around and twirling your pen like you were thinking over the material. The reality was you were concocting a plan to seduce him.

Another few minutes pass and you make your move. You lean your head against his shoulder. He glances at you for a moment with a gentle smile, leaning against you as well. Bingo. You hug his arm close to you. “Nazuna~” You whine again, softer this time. “Pretty please~? Just a little break?” You even bat your eyelashes at him.

“Honey…” He trails off as he looks at you. You knew he had a hard time denying you when you acted this way.

You turn your body and cup his cheek, leaning in to kiss his jaw. You made a show of arching your back as you did so. The kissing noises you made were unnecessary, but part of your act as you kissed down his neck. You smirk against his skin when you feel him gulp. His hand moves upwards to gently grip your hair close to the roots and you look up, thinking you had him.

But he looked unphased.

He gives you a tender kiss as he pulls you off of him once more. “Later. It’ll be a reward.” His voice was more firm. It had the entire opposite effect on you.

“Nazuna~” You don’t even give him a moment to get back to work before you clamber onto his lap. You grind your hips against his, producing a low groan from your lover. “I can’t focus for that long. I need you~”

Nazuna grips your hips a bit too tightly for someone who was willing himself to be the voice of reason here. “I said wait.” One of his hands moves to grip you by the jaw. “Can you be good for me and wait a little bit, honey?” He asks as if he already knew the answer.

“Nooooo.” You drape your arms over his shoulders and dramatically lean back. “I don’t wanna wait~ At least let me cockwarm you or something. I missed having you inside of me…” 

Something about the needy way you were whining and the desperate roll of your hips made something snap in Nazuna. He lifts you up half onto the table and flips you so you’re bent over it. You think you’re finally going to get what you want when he backs off for a second. You raise your head to look back only to be met with a harsh glare. “Stay.”

And you freeze. He kicks the standing whiteboard in the room so it rolls in place in front of the door window to the study room. And good lord- his gaze is piercing. You feel yourself grow hot with arousal as he turns his attention back on you.

“You couldn’t have waited any longer?” He scolds you and shoves both your pants and underwear down.

You don’t sound the least bit apologetic as you say sorry. “I can’t help it… I missed- Ah!” It looks like he wasn’t in the mood for excuses as he delivers a harsh spank to your ass.

Nazuna places one hand right between your shoulder blades to keep you in place. “Not a word, honey. If you’re going to act like a brat, you’re going to get treated like one.”

He spanks you a few times in a row, each one harder than the last. You inhale sharply and whine, squirming in his grasp. You love when your boyfriend gets mean. You push your luck. 

“Nazun- Ah! Ah!”

More spanks rain down to your other cheek this time. He grips the fat of your ass and gives it one more hard smack as you jerk under him. For a guy like him, he had a surprisingly heavy hand when it came to these things. His hand stops to thumb over the red marks starting to form, admiring what little it took for them to appear. Your breath hitches as his hand moves between your thighs to your aching sex. When you turn your head to look at him, you catch sight of his amused smirk.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you missed me~” It was his turn to tease. His fingers dig into your ass as his eyes drift over your disheveled form. What a sight for sore eyes. He undid the belt to his pants, but didn't remove his boxers just yet. Instead he opts to grind against you slowly.

Your eyes roll slightly upwards, mouth hanging open in a little ‘o.’ “Please…” You beg softly. “I’m sorry~ I’ll focus on studying. I promise! I just w-wan- Oh~” Your words are cut off with a rather loud moan as he spanks you again. The moans only keep coming as his fingers tease your hole.

He giggles at your desperation. “Is that so? You promise to be good?” His voice has a bit of a wicked edge to it as he bucks his hips once. You could feel his boner press right up against your hole. Your mind goes blank as you push your own hips back to try and feel it again.

“Yeeesss~” You wiggle your hips to entice him. “I’ll be good. I’ll be so so sooo goo- Mnghf?!” Too distracted by your own desire, you didn’t notice Nazuna collecting your underwear from the floor until he was shoving them into your mouth.

“You’re getting too loud, honey.” He chuckles and kisses your shoulder. His hands run along your sides as he speaks. “This is a library, remember? The walls aren’t thin, but it’s quiet~”

Your face flushes at his teasing, but you didn’t have the mind to be totally embarrassed when you hear the rustling of fabric behind you. Nazuna finally took off his boxers and pressed the tip of his leaking cock to your hole.

“Be good and don’t be too loud or I stop.” 

It took everything in you to not moan so loudly (even muffled) as he pushed into your tight hole. You hear him curse quietly, thrusting lightly a couple times before snapping his hips to yours. You let out a muffled cry as he bottoms out inside you. Finally.

A few excruciating moments of your two getting used to each other again and Nazuna starts at a brutal pace. It looks like you both needed this. It wouldn’t be a stretch to compare you both to rabbits in heat.

You moan, trying to keep yourself grounded by gripping onto the table. Your underwear was now soaked by both your own arousal and your saliva- the only thing keeping you at ever a remotely reasonable volume.

Nazuna pants behind you, opting to gently bite into your shoulder from time to time so he wouldn’t be the one to give you two away. The rhythmic sound of his hips smacking into yours as he fucks you onto the table was driving you mad. And you mean onto the table. The force that he was going enough was enough to get you onto the tips of your toes, slick dripping down from where the two of you were connected.

“Take it. Fucking take it, brat.” He grunted softly into your ear. “The only thing that will get you to shut up is my cock, isn’t it?”

You nod mindlessly, relishing in the feeling of his dick spearing you open. Your head drops to the table, hands in fists. His pace was brutal. And every now and then he’d spank you again, causing you to jolt and tighten up around him further. Nazuna groans each time it happens, eyes glued to the way your hole sucks his cock in, the way your thighs tremble, the delicious shake of your ass each time you push your hips back- It all just enticed the blonde to ruin you further.

He peppers kisses and little nips and bites along your back and shoulders, holding your hips up at an angle that would hit a spot he knew was particularly sensitive inside of you. 

“God- Fuck! Nazuna~” Even with the gag, your cries were heard clearly. The way his tip bullies its way into your sensitive walls leaves you weak. “I’m close~” Your hands claw at the table in a futile attempt to keep your senses tethered to the earth.

“Come for me, honey~ All over my cock. I’ll be so proud of my brat.” His words are harsh as he pounds his dick deep into you.

You cry out against the gag, clamping down against him tightly that he’s forced to slow himself down as you orgasm. He makes up for speed in deep, hard thrusts as he essentially uses you as a fleshlight while you ride out your high. 

His cock twitches once, twice inside of you before he pulls out at the very last second to splatter his cum against your thighs. Nazuna squeezes your legs together, humping his cock between your thighs and using his sticky cum as lube. Ropes of cum decorate your lap and you giggle happily. Once he finally slows down, he delicately removes your underwear from your mouth and gives you a long kiss.

Nazuna pulls back and caresses your hair lovingly. “I’ll clean you up and then we’ll get back to studying like we promised, okay?”

You nod and watch him as he digs through his backpack for wipes.

You’re giving him another 30 minutes before you’re pulling this shit again.

[drpeppertummy]

projecting onto wendy for once in this dinky little thing i cant get myself to finish. far from my best what ever

[post-unintentional air bloat, tummy rubs, mild burping]

As Laurie slowly woke up, a gurgle and a soft moan drew her attention. Yawning, she looked to her right to see Wendy, still asleep. The two were sharing a hotel room and, naturally, for financial purposes, a bed. Wendy, though still sleeping, didn't exactly look peaceful. Her face was painted with discomfort. There was another gurgle, and it was then that Laurie noticed her friend's stomach. The blanket, unwanted in the warm, poorly ventilated room, had been pushed throughout the night towards the foot of the bed, leaving the two friends uncovered. Additionally, Wendy's shirt had ridden up. Unlike Laurie, Wendy was fairly thin, and ordinarily, her exposed belly would have been flat. Right now, however, it was shockingly bloated, particularly at the top.

Laurie sat up, surprised. She was sure she would've noticed if Wendy had been that bloated when they'd gone to bed; it would've been obvious on her small frame. Another hollow gurgle rose up from Wendy's distended belly. It sounded like it was completely filled with air, and more was being forced in. Laurie looked at her for a moment, realizing what had happened. Every time Wendy swallowed, she swallowed a little bit of air, but the air evidently wasn't leaving her stomach. No wonder she looks so uncomfortable, Laurie thought. She's been bloating up like a balloon all night. She must be about ready to burst.

Indeed, Wendy's stomach was inflated far past its limit, and the ache of it finally pulled her from her restless sleep. She opened her tired eyes to see Laurie sitting over her, looking concerned. Her stomach felt like she'd swallowed a beach ball. She began to yawn, but was stopped by her belly's inability to stretch any further. A tiny, pained whine escaped her.

"Hey, sit up and try to burp or something, you're making me nervous," said Laurie. She helped Wendy upright, keeping a cautious hand on her friend's bulging belly. It felt rock solid. Wendy tried to force out a burp, and Laurie winced at the feeling of her stomach tensing under her hand. She managed a tiny burp, followed by a soft groan of discomfort. Laurie gently rubbed her sore belly, looking sympathetically at her.

"C'mon, you gotta do better than that," said Laurie, patting her back. "How am I gonna explain to the guys if you explode?"

"I am not going to explode," said Wendy, although she certainly felt like she was going to. Her belly rumbled, and she covered her mouth as she let out a more substantial burp.

"Hey, there you go," Laurie said approvingly. Wendy's stomach was still drum-tight under her hand, but it didn't feel quite so pressurized anymore. She was a little surprised Wendy hadn't pulled away from her touch yet. She was much pricklier than the rest of their friend group, not cuddly at all, and tended to stay uninvolved in any physical affection. Laurie rubbed her belly in gentle circles, pressing ever so slightly to coax out another burp.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Good Day For It Thugs x Reader || Headcanons

Topic: Smut HC's.

Including/Warnings:

Dale Acton: Mild dub con with (Love/Hate kinda thing+restraining you) and public sex+masturbation.

Norman Tyrus: Cockwarming and shower sex.

Wayne Jackson: Necessary use of boner pills, masturbation (and getting caught), public sex kink, and possession/sort of manipulation through sex.

Wayne's is a doozy, not gonna lie 😅 They're all good though XD

Dale Acton:

One thing that happens a l o t, is that Dale annoys you into hate sex. Hear me out here: Dale can be annoying as hell, and lot of the time- he means to be. He thinks its so fucking fun, and you're so fucking cute when you're annoyed at him. He pokes the bear as much as he can, picking on you and nudging you and just in general making himself a hUGE NUISENCE, until you give in and start snapping at him ('Would you shut up??'). Then arguing with him ('Baby, come on, hey- I was just fucking around a bit with you!- ' 'Don't you 'baby' me right now, Dale- '). Then finally you go to swat him or even wack him on the shoulder, because he is JUST THAT INFURIATING, with that perpetually amused dumbass grin on his face even when you're yelling at him, and he shoves you against the wall ('Watch it, babe, you're playin' with the big boys now'). Or pins you to the bed ('You like that? Huh? you like gettin' held down like you're nothin'?'). Or just holds your arms still by the wrists away from him ('Careful... you wouldnt wanna hurt me, would you babe?'); still with that FUCKING SMILE ON HIS DAMN FACE--

He teases you some more, liking the way you struggle, then somehow you two are making out and you're undoing his belt and you're wet as fuck, or you're making out and he's still holding you down but he grinds into you like an evil horny gremlin, or he forces your face into the bed and you clutch the sheets, or-

Look, you get the point. Moving on-

Dale is not great at using his mouth. He can kiss perfectly fine but when he gets down there, its really just... wet. But he can be taught! And he's eager to try (he loves your cunt/cock!) so, uh... *shrugs* yeah. You can pretty much mold him into the perfect cocksucker/cunt licker. Did I say that??... yes I did. Welp-

This man a l w a y s gets a boner when you spoon. He just cant handle it, having your cute ass so close to him.

Sort of an add on to the last dot point- DALE WILL TOTALLY FUCK YOU IN A MOTEL BED WITH NORMAN AND WAYNE IN THE ROOM ASLEEP. THIS MAN HAS N O CHILL. He begs until you give in, just going 'we'll be quiet. come on, just let me stick it in baby. just the tip. i promise. no one'll know. i'll be quick. i gotta- '

Sexting. You two totally sext, and have phone sex. Send him a pic while he's out 'working' with the guys and he'll have to make his way to the nearest bathroom soon-as; locking the public restroom door behind him like an asshole, leaning back on it, pulling out his dick and calling you up so you can talk him through it.

Norman Tyrus:

Soft Dom. Soft Dommmm!!! Like, he's controlling- you are his baby girl and he's the boss here ('I'm in charge here, not you, sorry sweetheart.')... but he's really nice to you XD Loves praising you. 'Sweetheart take it slow, we got some time... ', 'Fuck... you're so damn cute like that.', 'Y'think you can do that again?... I ain't done with you, pretty thing', 'Shit- Did I tell you I love you today?', 'Come on baby, I know you got some more in you. You're doing so fucking good.', 'Thaaaats it... such a good little cocksucker.', etc.

On an even softer note- Norman. Hates. PDA. Sorry ladies and gents (and all y'all in between and outside the regular gender norms), but the last thing he wants is to have any of the guys (Or anyone, really), seeing him - or you, - in such a gentle state. But that just makes your time alone all the better and more intimate between you. You're the only one who gets to see him like that. This, big, mean, scary crime guy is only ever soft and gentle and sweet, alone with you.

Okay now back to the sex-

You. finish. first. Every time. He makes it his business to make sure you, his doll, cum's good first thing.

One thing Norman is definitely into- is cockwarming. He's a busy man but he doesn't want to neglect you, so why don't you keep him company? God, the first time he suggests it ,its very clear its not his first time; That this is something he brings to every relationship. You're just moping on the couch in his office while he does paperwork, flicking through a book or playing game son your phone, when Norman sighs and separates from his desk enough to make room for you in his lap. 'Cmere'. When you round the desk and see his cock out, you go bug-eyed, but he is so?? completely?? without shame?? So straight-faced with that monster dick out and half-hard on his lap? Its a completely undeniable look for him, and you were turned on immediately seeing him like that, and you took your seat.

So you sit, milking him for upwards of an hour while he does his work; even makes and takes calls with you nestled around him. He remains hard the whole time.

Shower sex!! Sometimes shower time is the only private time the two of you have alone together (But y'all do it when you're perfectly alone and have time, too), and, honestly?? He loves seeing you naked. I don't care if you're skinny, fat, muscly or somewhere in between, he l o v e s how you look. He cant get enough. And he's not shy about his own body, either.

Shower sex isn't just needy, desperate rutting with Norman. Its slow, its him appreciating your body and you kissing all over him. Its staying in there until the water gets cold. ... then some desperate rutting and fucking you into the wall.

Wayne Jackson:

First of all, you must give him a warning at least 45 minutes prior. The man needs to take his boner pills! But I dunno, maybe its just me and my having mostly old man F/O's but I think thats kinda endearing, in a way XD

A lotta the time your sexcapades (Yes i just said that) involve watching TV and waiting for 'it to happen' (The pills to kick in), and then- 🤣🤣 And then- 🤣- Wayne will go like 'woah- alright up & attem, honey, we're ready to go, hop on'. XDDDD Sexy, huh??? XDD 😂😭

Of course, the other way that this could go is that you spend a good chunk of time with foreplay. Now, Wayne's lazy, and an ass, but I do think he likes a little foreplay. Especially if he can just sit back with you in his lap giving him kisses and rolling your hips all-needy against him- and, of course, if he can tease you.

AND- OH BOY THE TEASING. Okay okay okay. His voice gets growlier the more turned on he is. You didn't think it was possible, but it does.

Oh my god, he LOVES. TO CATCH. YOU TOUCHING YOURSELF. He could be in such a foul mood getting home from 'work', but the moment hears that??? Or walks in and sees you?? You've never seen the bastard so pleased XD Something about the fact that this isn't for him, the fact that he wasn't meant to be there, wasn't meant to know about this-- makes this creepy old man feel young again. Like, no need for a pill. He's good. 'Well wouldja look at that... Ready to go, honey?'. But lorddddd, could you imagine that man walking in on you like that?? That shit-eating grin? 'Ooh, now what's that you're watchin?', '... 😏watcha got under the covers there, sweetheart?', 'well damn, am I late to the party?'.

Sort of the same thing as one of Dale's dot points- but Wayne h a s b e e n k n o w n to get frisky in the same room that the others are sleeping in. He's not gonna full on fuck you, because this is way less about his sexual pleasure and more about his cruel nature (He loves to put you in Situations. It is so fun for him.). So it'll be him feeling you up, or him throwing an am over your waist from behind and fingering you. The important part is 'you better stay silent, sweetheart, or everyone's gonna know what a naughty little thing you are.'

Okay. A bit of a feelsy one here.

Wayne definitely gets jealous and possessive. If someone else (Especially someone better then him. Don't get it twisted, the man knows he's a no-good loser. Usually he doesn't mind... but he still resents people who have got their shit together), someone taller, or younger, or richer, or nicer- pays attention to you, Wayne gets spiteful. And bitter.

And then when you two are alone again he gets kind of... uhhh... full-on. Sex with Wayne is never all that serious- and even if it is, a it of humour is never too far away. But in times like these he is t o t a l l y serious, and honestly?? A lot better then he usually is. He really steps it up. You suspected that he had to be better then he seemed, he sure was old enough to be, but you didn't know he could kiss you like this. You didn't know he could eat you out or suck you off- at all. You didn't know he knew about that one Spot.

You learn a lotta things about what he knows how to do, and how he's just being lazy and greedy most of the time.

He finally shows you his real game, because he wants to prove to you he's the one you want. Pull out the big guns, he figures, and you'll stick around.

... oh and finally. i'm pretty sure he has a breeding kick of some description. do not let this man get you pregnant; he will not pay child support.

[another-corpo-rat]

Sometimes you just gotta indulge and write a stupid little scene between your OC and the fuckwit bastard cyborg you paired her with so yup yup, enjoy.

Adam Smasher/{Non-Canon} Corpo V General warnings for an unhealthy relationship but tbh its kinda par for the course with him, aint it

*~*

There are certain things Smasher tolerates. The Maelstrom that linger around the Ebunike, admiring their metallic idol from a distance that could hardly be considered safe. Yorinobu, for the family name that follows and the wealth of potential it entailed; despite the man in question considering it a lingering odour he couldn’t quite shake off. And his countless technicians, scared shitless of the cyborg and completing the necessary procedures with the slightest shake to their hands.

Victoria Crane considers herself lucky to be counted among that scarce list, even if she pricks at his already threadbare patience to quell her own boredom.

Even if they both know that really, tolerance is too mild a word for what he lets her get away with.

“The fuck’re you doing?”

Case in point: now.

She pauses in her ministrations, pursing her lips as she pulls back enough to meet his unblinking stare. He wasn’t quite glaring – or what could constitute a glare with his pinprick optics, but he manages when he wants – so she stays where she is: ass planted comfortably on his lap, arms curled around his neck.

“Ah.” Clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, she draws her clawed fingers tentatively across his jaw. “See, there’s this thing called affection,” she says matter-of-factly, tone carefully devoid of her usual bite. The ‘corpo-accent’ Grayson would call it, if he wasn’t suddenly busy with something to do elsewhere when she was pulled onto Smasher’s legs. “And I think you might be terribly starved of it.”

It might be a risk to kiss him again. She does anyway, on the tip of his nose.

His fingers curl at the action, loose fists set against his knees. But she’s not dead so that’s something.

“Affection.” He grounds out, distorting the word into an insult with his characteristic growl. The weight of it settles on her shoulders, pressing them down. “How disgustingly human of you.” Something like disappointment joins that heaviness, sinking lower to curdle in her chest. The sigh that escapes her is more sincere than she intended.

“Fine, I’ll stop.” The words are sharper too, a needling precision perfected to dig under other’s skin yet ineffective against Smasher. As most of her arsenal is. Her arms slip from their loose hold around his neck, a hand bracing against his shoulder as she stands. Her pettiness too is tolerated, when it isn’t poked at and provoked for his entertainment.

“I didn’t say you could leave, Crane.” She’s barely managed a step when he speaks, the scant space between them removed entirely as he pulls her back. His frame is warm, pleasantly so against the nipping cold of the night air. Stubbornness keeps her from sinking into him, keeps her gaze pointedly on the mundane view of the inky water rather than the behemoth of chrome she’s perched on.

His fingers are always colder than the rest of him. As good an excuse as any if he points out how she shivers when his fingers crook under her chin, the touch deceptively gentle.

“Oh, so I’m Crane now?”

He pauses, fingers pressing a bit firmer as she draws in too deep of a breath. She doesn’t know what goes through his mind then – ever, if she was being truthful – but she imagines he’s recalling their past exchanges, these odd little things that a fool would call a power play. It’s more a dance; one where he’ll always lead, where the onus of their precarious balance is at his whim. His choice if he’ll drop her to the ground or pull her back to her feet after a dip.

“Victoria.” He doesn’t purr but the low rumble to his voice is dangerously close to it, rolling through her and leaving a warmth lingering in its wake. The breath leaves her, a slow exhale that eases the set of her shoulders and jaw as she finally looks at him. He’d be grinning if he could, entirely too smug at how easily he pulls her threads.

“Adam.” And finally she sinks against him again, turning to sling her legs over one thick plated thigh. He’s certain to hold her in place; a large hand cupping her rear, his grip easing after a squeeze.

“I didn’t tell you to stop either. Get back to it.”

“Get back to what?” Unlike him she can smile easily. Smugly too. He huffs, the sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh.

“Don’t push your luck now.” She knows a warning when she hears it, even one laced with amusement.

Her arms return to their slack hold around his neck, pulling herself up to continue her assault of fluttering kisses against the mottled skin of his face. If his shoulders relax and he sinks deeper into the shitty settee, she doesn’t mention it. Just as he doesn’t mention her occasional firmer kiss here and there, often against the metal mandible where his lips should be.

They don’t mention a lot of things. Keeps the peace that way.

[believemetheodore]

'Tis the Damn Season

Ted Lasso x Rebecca Welton

Based on Lover by Taylor Swift and THIS tweet

Warnings: Mentions of Rupert and past emotional abuse, otherwise mostly fluff (let me know if you want me to add anything else)

He resents the way his nerves creep into the gentle call of her name. Hates the way his own fears make the three perfect syllables feel heavy on his tongue. He’d only popped out to buy more eggnog, but the house seems empty at first glance.

“Rebecca,” he calls again, his shoes and coat at the door, polka-dot-socked feet padding across the hardwood. “In here,” she responds this time, her voice soft and calm, instantly quelling his anxious thoughts and mild concern. 

“There you are!” he can’t stop his grin, seeing her in her coziest knit loungewear. Flat on her back, looking up at the Christmas tree from below. 

He’ll admit that the sight of Rebecca laying on the floor, her hair loose, her face make-up free, isn’t something he could’ve ever imagined. But, his heart feels unbearably full, knowing how big of a deal it is that she’s comfortable enough to be so relaxed and so free. He’ll always be beyond grateful for the privilege of being able to see her so vulnerable and natural. 

In the three years he’s known her, he’s learned how much damage her relationship with Rupert had done to her self-esteem and watched her battle with her own insecurities and fears. He’s been honoured to be in her life, by her side, as she’s learned to break down the walls she had built up around herself. His place in her life is something that he’s never been inclined to take for granted. 

It takes him mere seconds to lie down next to her. One hand resting on his stomach, his left hand free at his side, knowing she’ll probably reach for it, but only if she doesn’t have to ask. When her knuckles brush his, he takes the initiative to intertwine their fingers making sure to give a reassuring squeeze. The lights woven through the branches above them cast a warm golden glow, leaving the ornaments to sparkle. 

“I’ve gotta say, this is a mighty fine tree you’ve decorated”. She hums in response to the compliment, but he doesn’t ignore how she leans over to kiss his shoulder, snuggling closer to his side. 

Content and comfortable with Rebecca’s hand in his own, he takes the time to study each of the ornaments overhead.  Like with everything she does, the decorations on the tree have been clearly thought out in terms of placement and colour scheme. Not a single bauble or crystal snowflake hangs out of place. It’s perfect. 

His eyes linger longer on the tiny paper angels and faded felt decorations. They’re older than the silver bells and metallic red baubles that litter the tree, but they seem far more personal. Finally, his attention lands on a small wooden horse ornament hanging only a couple of inches from his face, and he wonders how he didn’t see it first. Painted in red and gold, chipped along the edges. Upon closer inspection, he sees it’s missing an ear and part of its tail; obviously, it’s been well-loved, and he can’t help but wonder why it’s been tucked so far back into the plush greenery, hidden away out of plain sight. 

“Who’s this little guy?” Ted can’t stop his own curiosity, reaching up to poke it. It rocks back and forth on the branch as he lowers his hand. 

“That was my first Christmas ornament. Picked it out at a shop when I was a little girl. Dad would lift me up because I always wanted to put it as close to the top of the tree as I could manage,” her smile grows slowly until her eyes crinkle as she recalls the memory, “probably would've replaced the angel with it if I could”.

He wants to smile and laugh along with her, but he finds himself with furrowed brows, staring at the little horse. Imagining the pride and joy Rebecca must've felt as a little girl, making sure her favourite decoration was on display as close to the starring role as possible. It only makes the pit in his stomach grow. 

Carefully as possible, he takes the horse down, “It sounds like he's in the wrong spot then, doesn't it?”

Her eyes are soft and full of emotions he’s seen before, quiet and complex, years worth fear and questioning bubbling to the surface. He locks his gaze with hers long enough for her to object or shy away from this moment. But when he shimmies out from under the tree, his hand is still holding tight to hers. He helps her to her feet, and she's instantly wrapping her arms around him, her face pressed against his back as he hangs the horse on the highest branch available. 

“It's perfect. Thank you”.

Ted hums, tugging her around in front of him. 

“Happy to help. He must've just gotten lost”.

She nods, “must've”.

Metaphor .

“Ya know, twinkle lights are my favourite things about Christmas time-- besides the food, and family, and fun, and the holiday songs--” “I think the list of things you don’t like about Christmas might be shorter,” Rebecca teases. “You’re probably right about that-- wouldn’t it be fun if we could have all this cheer all year ‘round?” “Absolutely not. It’ll clash with my decor. We can leave them up until January”. “Ooh! Compromise. I love that,” Ted grins, giving her a chaste kiss. “I knew you would,” Rebecca smiles, kissing him back. Who knew love could be this easy?   

In the following days, Ted takes notice of the extra tinsel and holly popping up around the house. The gigantic wreath that takes its place on the front door and the cheeky bunch of mistletoe hanging above the doorway to the kitchen (that’s his favourite). 

They hadn’t actively made any Christmas plans beyond her usual deliveries for Santa. But Ted’s pleasantly surprised when she asks him to stay at hers, even more so when she expresses an interest in hosting a dinner for their friends on Christmas eve. Rebecca had suggested she would hire a chef for the evening; Ted had insisted they would make dinner together. So, here they are, festive music playing through the kitchen, the two of them singing along, turkey and ham both in the ovens, cookies and puddings baking, potatoes being mashed, and the sound of cranberry sauce in the air. 

With everything warming, it’s just a waiting game. I’ll be home for Christmas , plays and she tugs Ted close, insisting they have a dance before they have to get ready for their company arriving. It’s easy to relax with him, her breathing falling into rhythm with his, inhaling the smell of his aftershave. Sugar-sweetened kisses and the warmest hands she’s ever known; it’s safe, and she wants nothing more than to stay in this moment forever. 

When the night rolls to a close and the party has migrated from the dining table to the sitting room, Roy and Keely are the only guests left. Rebecca knows she’s somewhere between more than tipsy and absolutely plastered; Keely is in a similar state, and their laughter is probably loud enough to be heard on the other side of the green. 

Her heart is so full of joy. It’s not lost on her how significant it is that her anxiety isn’t rearing its ugly head. She never felt so free with Rupert. Never allowed herself to let loose, to get pished, to be loud with her best friend. Despite being a co-owning of their house, Rebecca had never felt at home when Rupert was around. 

When she asks Roy and Keely if they want to stay in the guest room, Ted seconds her offer; sipping on his glass of whiskey. There’s not an ounce of condescension or mollification in his voice, and Rebecca swears her heart grows three sizes. 

This is their home. Happy and safe, a space for fun, and a place where her friends are free to stay. 

As much as she adores Keely and Roy, she's overjoyed when they decline the offer. Her hands are on Ted the moment the front door shuts behind them. 

She’s completely and utterly in love with him and his soft hazel eyes and endlessly frustrated by the way he manages to look so good in one of the most ridiculous holiday sweaters she's ever seen. 

Ted shares the sentiment. Rebecca always manages to be the most gorgeous woman in any room, but this newly realized freedom looks incredible on her, and the way she looks at him like he's hung the stars in the sky is irresistible. 

It's magnetic, the energy between them, and with her pressed between him and the door, neither of them would trade the feeling for the world. Like two parts of one whole coming together, albeit a little damaged. Content to be honest. Thrilled to love and be loved in equal measure. Excited to build a home together. 

In the morning, they exchange gifts. Ted makes pancakes, and they sip hot chocolate while they wait for Henry to wake up and FaceTime. Ted had insisted she didn’t need to get anything for the young Lasso, but she insisted she was more than happy to spoil the boy absolutely rotten. Now, she just hopes all his gifts arrived on time. 

In spite of his hatred for tea, Ted manages to make her a perfect cuppa, a plate of biscuits set on the coffee table as well. Each batch he makes seems to get better; he tells her the secret ingredient is love. And when he brings a box of peppermint chocolate bark into the room, she all but moans. 

“If you’re going to start making confectionary now, too, I will marry you”. Her words slip out without much thought, and he doesn’t put much weight on it, but he stores it away for later, more than happy to marry again if that’s what she really wanted. For now, he’s happy to watch her stack a piece of chocolate on top of her shortbread.

There’s something so comforting about the sound of the shower running upstairs while he talks to Henry. The reminder that he’s not alone, near and far, his family is with him. Rebecca joins them when she’s dressed, her hair perfectly styled, and her usual makeup on. She smells like vanilla, and Ted is proud to pull her close to his side on the couch while she catches up with Henry. 

 Her eyes light up with each story he tells about his friends and the after-school soccer (football)  team he’s joined. He thanks her for the gifts she sent and how excited he is to visit over spring break. Ted has never worried about Henry and Rebecca getting along, but seeing how close they’ve grown makes his heart melt like butter. 

It’s easy, he thinks, loving and being loved by Rebecca. He doesn’t think about trusting her. He doesn’t find himself feeling nervous about being too much when he’s with her. And in the evening, when they go on their annual gift delivery run, he’s reminded of the size of her heart and the warmth and compassion she carries with her. 

He’s grateful when she RSVPs to events on behalf of them both. 

Yes, to the Higgins’ with the team on Christmas night. 

No, to Sir Elton John’s Christmas party (neither of them has had the time to find the right outfits, maybe next year). 

Rebecca doesn’t second guess her responses to events anymore, checking her calendar and Ted’s, scheduling their appearances at galas and fundraisers, knowing he’s not just happy, but enthusiastic about being her plus one to weddings. She knows without having to ask if he wants the chicken or fish option, when she sends in her replies. She goes to the events she wants to attend, and has no issue you declining invites to the ones she has no interest in, or simply doesn’t have the time for. 

It’s another simple thing, but knowing that she doesn’t have to distance herself from friends and their celebrations because her partner might change his mind at the last minute, or doesn’t want he going if he’s not with her, is such a weight off her shoulders. She never has to make excuses for Ted, and she knows it’s the truth when she tells people he could attend because he was under the weather, or busy with work. 

She doesn’t shrink by Ted’s side, instead she stands taller. Curled up with her glass of wine chatting with Julie Higgins, laughing at the shenanigans of the players, and the young Higgins boys, she’s unapologetic in her comfort. Carols are sung, and mulled wine tastes so much better when you’re in good company she’s discovered. 

And, when Ted says, “Time to head home, darlin?” It’s a question, not a command.

Home, it sounds so good when he says it, and her driver can’t arrive fast enough. Fuzzy socks, and hot chocolate are calling her name, and she’s been looking forward to finishing the book she’s been reading. Ted’s hand is warm in her own while they wait for the car. Snowflakes catching in their eyelashes. 

There had been a time in her life when the holidays were nothing but dreaded. Nothing but days of stress, and arguments. The return of glee to the season is more than welcomed. 

She loves all her festive throw pillows, and twinkle lights, her favourite ornament hanging proudly where it belongs at the top of the tree. Ted tends to the fire, grabbing her blanket off the arm chair to give to her when they curl up to catch up on Drag Race UK . Laughter fills the air as Ted rolls out his cheekiest jokes and commentary, just for her. The snow continues to fall outside, but the two of them pay it no mind, shovelling their way out of the house is the last thing on their minds. They’re safe. They’re happy. They’re in love. 

 And if the two of them cross make love by the fireplace off their bucket lists? That's no one's business but theirs.

[xevanescentxx]

so i think its clear im bad at wording things so ill just put it bluntly

im very curious as to what it seems to be everyone's problem with lorraine?? T-T like damn what did she do that they hate her guts sm

also, i just wanna know about the group (frankie, tony, them lot yk)

made me curious

also, i have to say that i love your headcanons and how everything fits together and my brain just goes 🫶

hehe lowkey i’ve been waiting for this question 😭 BUT yes i will explain! i’ll start with the first question,

lorraine has built herself quite the reputation in the underworld. she’s worked for countless people. the biggest of those being slenderman. however, like most proxies in the underworld lorraine isn’t liked to much. not as liked as jeff, but not hated as much as jack.

lorraine is a thief. i mean, come on you gotta survive right? she’s made the mistake of stealing weaponry and priceless antiques from those higher up. and here’s the thing, normally nobody would bat an eye, but the things she’s stolen are extremely valuable. most of them being magical objects, weapons design for specific demonic species, etc. the ‘person’ she’s stolen from countless times is beezlebub. he’s sent many people after her to kill her, and everytime— they don’t come back. he’s weary of sending tony’s group after her, he knows how powerful his son and his friends are, but he’d rather not take the risk. funny enough, lorraine works at one of the strip clubs the beezlebub owns. reason as to why he doesn’t particularly know, is that this particular location isn’t one where he visits repeatedly nor even cares about. it’s not a nice club or bar by any means. it’s trashy.

as for the rest of the underworld, people don’t hate nor love her. it’s honestly kinda depends on how you’d ask. she has her fanboy and fangirls, no doubt about that— but she does have hate groups also. kinda funny to be honest.

okay, onto the next question!! i absolutely love all four of these guys. two of them are partially owned by a friend of mine, so i don’t have exact defining backstories for them but i can tell you what they look like.

Crosseye is human. He has long brown hair and wears a priests outfit which had been cut up and fitted to his liking. he also wears light blue wash dirty ass jeans. he has a (sort of) mutilated face(?). he has a huge scar of a cross covering his entire face. it’s pretty wicked.

Steven is a literal octopus hybrid thing. my friend loves him, he’s the gentle giant of the group. genuine sweetie, wouldn’t hurt a soul. he’s sort of a blue-ish purple color? and he wears a large black cape.

we already know about frank, but he’s the ‘logic man’ of the group you can say(?)

and, my favorite one :3 tony. tony is a fucking ASSHOLE. he’s a womanizer, manipulator, (HUGE) misogynist, murderer (duh) and so much more. he has a boston accent like frank, and is the leader of the group. being beezlebubs son, he’s always invited to the most extravagant parties and bars, which his friends are also inclined to join. most of the time, frankie is the only one who goes with him. those two are best friends. however, frank does get very irritated with tony’s comments about women. frankie does have some mild internalized misogyny, but he’s not a sexist by any means. tony wears a black suit, with a red undershirt and a black hat with a red ribbon line. he’s smoking cigars daily, and drives one of the best looking cars you’ve ever seen.

by the way when i say tony’s my favorite, i mean he’s my favorite to write and talk about. i wld genuinely hate this mf if he was real smh.

ok that’s it! thank you so much for all your questions !! <3 im glad you like my headcanons. i love to answer any questions about the characters or even my own characters. if you have anymore don’t hesitate to send them!!

[plutoruins]

HALA . the package came in :3c

I know I've said it so many times now and that my gratitude has probably lost its novelty but I don't know what else to say but thank you ... well besides I love u very very much. I didn't expect to get a blanket AND goodies AND a note WITH A MUSHROOM ON IT ITS SOOO CUTE ITS THE FIRST THING I SAW AND IT ABSOLUTELY MELTED MY HEART GIRL. and then I saw the mango nectar and almost cried (again) I didn't even know mango nectar was like. a thing you could buy. it's in my fridge rn chilling for later after dinner. it was so sweet of you to add some extra for vro btw he didn't believe it until I showed him ur letter he also says thank you and that he would sacrifice a newborn for u. BUT. I do have a question actually because I've never had something like this I wanted to ask is there any specific way i should take care of the blanket. obviously I'm going to be very careful with it but I wanted to know do I have to like. hand wash it or like. hang dry it or what. I can't stress this enough if this thing comes unraveled by my hand I'm going to become a hermit .

side note your handwriting is very cute :) I could read it just fine and it didn't smudge at all in the mail! I'm going to keep it and the envelope on my mantle for safe keeping <3 and also as I've told ima before (she didn't believe me, actually) I don't keep a personal number so I'm quite sorry 😞 perhaps someday soon I'll get one exclusively for u two ... I digress however I won't overwhelm u with an extremely long ask. thank you again (and expect me to repay you someday!)

actually it’s so fitting that you don’t have a personal phone number 😭 but i’m happy you and vro loved the gifts! i hope the mango nectar was good too 💥 they’re like 58 cents here so i always try to get a bunch when my stepmom goes out shopping. i gotta find some once i move tho 😔.

also you can hand wash or machine wash it if you want! if you hand wash it, fill a container with lukewarm water and add gentle soap to it. let it soak and gently swish it around for about 15 minutes. afterwards, gently squeeze it to remove excess water once you remove it, dump out the lukewarm soapy water, then refill it with more lukewarm water (😭), and put it back in and swish it around for another 15 minutes this time to remove on the soap.

if you wanna machine wash it, use a delicate/gentle cycle with a low spin speed and cool water. also! make sure to use a mild or gentle detergent! when you go to dry it, the best way is it to lay it flat on a towel and then gently press out the excess water by rolling it up in a towel, then lay it on a plastic bag or a different towel. if you wanna machine dry it, go for low heat 💥

ALSO!! i listened to the song you sent and it fits seiko and kiyoshi so well! i’m adding it to their playlist rn [heart hands]

[loksven83]

ITS JORE (Jim lore) TIME, YALL!

CW: death, guns, blood, mild gore(?)

Ever wonder how Bug and Jim met? Well here ya go. Found family, FUCK YEAH.

Jim grunted in pain as he held his side, looking down to see the bullet wound where his liver would be. He cursed, shakily loading his pistol, Mari. Another bullet landed in his arm, causing him to cry out in pain again.

The gunshots.

The smell of blood.

The yelling from the enemy gang.

The rest of his comrades were dead, all laying in pools of their own blood. He aimed, trying to focus on his target. He shot. Silence. More gunfire.

He started to fade in and out, looking down at the amount of blood he was losing. He coughed.

Suddenly, there was screaming, the sounds of mechanical whirring and blood splattering. Jim tried not to think too hard, accepting death.

"hey."

"hey!"

Jim blinked, staring at the figure Infront of him, the pale mask unblinking. Jim crawled backwards a bit, aiming his gun shakily at this odd, smaller, figure.

"easy, easy.." they said, holding their metallic hands up, showing the blood dripping down from them. "I might be covered in blood, but I ain't here for yours. I'm Bug." They introduced.

Jim yelped quietly as they gently moved his overcoat out of the way, showing where he was shot in his side. "It's okay, big guy, I'm gonna help ya. Let's take care of this, first..." Bug said, trying to be gentle as a small metallic tentacle slipped out of their wrist, entering the bullet wound. Jim hissed in pain as Bug offered their finger to bite down on, which Jim refused as soon enough, the tentacle retracting and now pulling the bullet out. Jim watched, seemingly fascinated.

"it's okay, big man.. I might be scary, but I ain't a monster." Bug said. The tentacle retracted back into their wrist, and another apparatus extended out, starting to disinfect and treat the wound. "You're Jim, right..?" Bug asked. Jim shakily nodded, still watching the treatment. "Good, I patched up like.. 3 other guys that I thought were you and now I gotta go back and make sure they're dead." Bug said, almost casually.

Jim seemed.. too stunned to talk. Finally, bug was done patching up the wound. They pulled his shirt and jacket back down, gently patting him. "C'mon. I'll take care of the other nic when I get ya home." They explained, now helping Jim up and, somehow, getting him to stand at least a little steadily. They fluttered their insectoid wings a bit, before finally taking flight. They hovered, then wrapped all four of their arms, plus some extra larger tentacles from their back, around his chest and waist. These larger tentacles ended in grabbing claws, similar to "Doc Oc's". As Jim was being shifted very carefully and gently, he seemed to be studying them. He was flipped to face Bug, being held tightly to them as they somehow supported his weight and apparently held him with ease. Surely, someone their height couldn't possibly carry Jim, who was atleast 2 feet taller than them. Nope. Don't ever underestimate Bug.

Bug hovered higher, supporting Jim's legs with a extra tentacle. They scanned the room, looking around and seemingly scanning the room for any other signs of life and snorting. Once they were satisfied, they turned back to Jim. "Sorry we have to meet like this, Jim. I hope I'm not hurting you, are you comfortable?" They asked. Jim only nodded. Why did this teenager care to patch him up, and where were they going? Only time would tell. Jim was a mercenary. It was confusing to him, being treated so carefully. Bug hovered for another moment or two before flitting out a open window, grip tightening on their precious cargo.

As they zoomed into the night, Jim started dozing off. Why? He never slept without ensuring his own safety. And here he was, being carried off into the night, by a stranger who was obviously more technologically advanced than they appear. Jim, lost in his own thoughts, tightened his grip around Bug, muttering softly. "Спасибо.." he mumbled. Bug didn't seem to hear him as the darkness slowly took Jim. His thoughts finally quieted, and sleep embraced him finally. One could only wonder what will happen next.

THANKS FOR READIN, LOVES!

[gojira007]

Puttin' my comments under the cut for Ease of Scrolling. ^_^

The distinctive angle here and the way it lets you emphasize the Presence of the polearm is immediately striking and effective!  I also love how well you juxtapose the loose playful pose from Madeleine against the firm straight look of the weapon too, and the light but clear texturing of the coat works great too. 

The particular look 'n' feel of the textures and perspectives here, from the richly defined look of the face to the nice sense of depth and dimension in the flowers, is really nicely done.  The great gentle feel you craft through the feel of the pose and the framing of the flowers around the character is just lovely.  

Awwww that believably Considerate look in the expression is so sweet, you handle the specific feel of it so authentically and the crisp cool feel of the lines really makes it click.  The way you show the wisp of steam being blown away from the mug is also great, the clear sense of its motion is really nicely handled. 

There's a distinctively nuanced believable feel to the physicality of the posing here I really appreciate; the motions aren't Big or Dramatic, but they are Clear and Expressive too.  The little lean in the head, the set of the shoulders, even just the turn of the eyes all have this very keenly observed sense of detail to it that clicks so nicely. 

Very nice use of differing line weights to capture the particular weight 'n' texture of each element here.  The slightly fuzzy feel of the hair, the firm angular look of the gun, even the light flow of the coat all come through really clearly! 

Gotta love the pitch-perfect reference, for sure XD  You definitely handle the sense of motion in the orbs themselves wonderfully, the mild glow effect is perfectly played.  Moreover I LOVE how well you use the distinctive birdy features of the face to make that playful fun expression work so nicely; the popped-open beak especially is perfect. 

I quite like the almost collage-like feel of the composition here, the cool graphic way each element feels layered on top of the other.  The way those stripes of color burst out from Orion's ring is especially good, but I also like the keen way you literally parallel Sterling with Rigel too. 

perfect use of burst-lines is perfect.  The whole scene here is just so charming, you handle each character's distinctive shapes and active poses with such a great style.  Their rubbery elongated lines just play off each other so perfectly. 

Art Fight 2024! Nearly all of these were revenges this year, haha. But I met my goal of doing 5 attacks~

Madeleine for @starlitskvaderart Omeesha for lovely-ento Berkan for @riyamilea Darian for @jammerlee Magma Gun for @inbarfink Shew for SpinosaurusSoup Wrong Man, Sterling, and Orion for @starkatstories Cypress, Val Amar, and Mavuto for @kingspriteful