#light for sure starting to lose his mind and grip on reality after the first 50 resets | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spicy-pears · 1 year ago

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𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖆𝖉 𝖒𝖆𝖓

warnings: forceful smut.breeding/impregnation.stalking.biting??(okay he may have tried to eat you). sexual vulgarity.over stimulation.branding.torture?

Pairing: Johnny slaughter x Female reader. [Sorry Leland lovers, maybe sometime this spooky season]

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: 1-𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚. 2-𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑹𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔. 3-𝑬𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒔.[WIP].4-𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍'𝒔 𝑭𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 [WIP].

Word count: 3k

[Thanks for stopping by! This is my very first smut post. So all likes and critique are truly appreciated❣️]

𝙹𝙾𝙷𝙽𝙽𝚈'𝚂 𝙿𝙾𝚅

"Good night! Or should I say good morning, Austin Texas! It's officially 12:00 am. August 29. We got some good news for you guys tonight-" the radio turned off abruptly with the rough turn of the dial, causing it to harshly click. The car became eerily silent, And time began to stand still. Johnnys gloved hand tightly gripped his steering wheel. head held down deep in thought, while his jaw began to clench. His tense body showed a man deep in battle with himself. His sharp inhales and deep rumbling exhales, reminiscent of a hungry animal or beast. His mind slowly being engulfed with a fuzzy, static, ringing sound. A sound that drowned everything else out, a sound that let him know he needed to hunt.

His dark eyes studied the blood-stained cloth, firmly held in his right hand. He tried his best to settle the unrest inside his mind and body. But finally gave into his loud flagrant desires. Bringing the cloth to his face, he took in the distinct scent of his new obsession. The hint of your natural sweetness, the lingering smell of your perfume, and the distinct copper signature of your blood. All of this together brought him into a high, causing his needy cock to harden and throb. his eyes grew endlessly dark with hunger. His breath now in the rhythm of a heated pant as he pulled away from the cloth.

After maria, he made sure to be careful. He didn't take you home right away, he wasn't going to lose another. He waited and played his cards right. By dating your hopeless friend, getting closer to you without notice. He managed to snag your beloved charm bracelet, a photo of your beautiful doe eyes and sweet smile, and now your blood. Unfortunately collecting and waiting was over. You were now in a perfect position for him. And he surely didn't give a damn about your loving fiancé. There you stood, in the dark. Your eyes dashing to see the source of each unexpected sound. While you held your bleeding hand waiting and waiting for your friends. They won't be back any time soon, he made sure of it.

AUGUST 29, 1988 TIME: 12:30 AM

The humid Texas air was slowly getting to you. You started to feel the time flying by. And with the passing moments, the texas night heat only grew stronger. Letting out an anxious huff, you battled with your better senses. You know you should sit still and wait for the girls to come back. But you felt uneasy, as the men coming into the bar had a open view of you. They gawked, whistled, and even took second and third glances while walking by. You began to feel like a rabbit in an open field. While Ignoring the male bar goers as best as you can. You noticed a figure standing 10 feet from you, gaining your full attention. It stood in the back alley of the bar, where the light didn't reach. You couldn't tell who it was or what they were doing, but after you stared for a little while longer. The figure titled its head mockingly. letting you know this wasn't delusion or Texas heat, this was reality.

You tried to swallow down the fear bubbling up, but your dry throat made it impossible. Your hand began to tremble lightly. You knew the hotel was a block and a half away,if you ran. You could try to page someone, but your pager was in friend's missing bag. As you quickly cycled through your mind, you felt hope wash over you. Your fiancé always gave you a switch blade for outings, which you thankfully kept this time. Frantically you began to search for it, feeling on its holster that wrapped around your thigh. Suddenly you heard it, "switch!", your knife being flicked open. Your eyes slowly looked up with dread,watching the figure waving at you with your knife in hand.

Then it all clicked, the only person close enough to take it, was johnny. Refusing to let him get you easy, you nodded at his shadowy figure. And without wasting a second you turned around and took off for the hotel. Last you saw of him; he took off stalking into the wooded area amongst the trees. While you decided to run down the clear sidewalk under the streetlights. You didn't scream, you didn't cry, you saved your energy for running. Your legs felt heavy, feet started to feel numb, and your chest ached from it pounding with each stride. You felt safe following the streetlights and sidewalk, until there were no more. Before you faced the wooded area of a park, an area with no trail, no railing, and no intention of life traversing. You knew by cutting through the park. The hotel would be closer for you to reach.

Hearing branches snap, dry leaves shuffle, and rustling bushes drawing near. you cared nothing for the concept of caution and ran into the wooded area.

If only you were more cautious.

Realizing pretty quickly the area you bravely ran into, turned into a downwards slope. You carefully tried slowly traversing down the slope sideways. Regardless of how careful you were, all footing was quickly lost. under the soft, muddy leaves, and dew-covered grass. With no control of your body, you began to slide down quickly into a full body tumble. Plunging down the slope, for what you felt was 8 feet from the ground. Your back finally collided hard with a tree at the bottom of the uneven slope. The forceful collision caused an audible coughing fit from the pain and exhaustion of your lungs.

"Tsk, what a damn shame... here I thought you were a tough one. I must admit you put up a good effort. None of the other girls ran as fast nor far as you did. Oh! I assure you!" Johnny would crouch down next to his prey and chuckled at your pain. While you laid there pathetically, he took out his harvesting blade. And with a quick snap of his wrist your dress came clean off. Leaving you bare to him and the low rolling night breeze. "You know, I thought your fiancé would have been somewhat smart. Being a cop and all...obviously not a good one. I was on your trail, during every little moment of your trip." His taunts continued. Quickly and clumsily, you tried to collect your tattered dress. Your effort proved to be of little use, with the shredded mess. "Hell, I think I know more about you than he does. Born in New Orleans green eyes like your mother, but sure do have your fathers' spirit." He got up following close as you writhed in pain. Pathetically crawling away from him, attempting to hide your naked frame from his gaze. He observed how weak you became, relying on all of strength left in your fingertips and arms. Johnny cruelly pressed his foot against your injured and bruised back. Stopping all pathetic attempts then and there.

While you laid there it became painfully clear, that you were dealing with a psychopath. A handsome face, scars excused as the marks of a hard-working farm hand. Staring you excused as shyness, every red flag you foolishly excused for your friend's happiness. Realizing what he was, you devised your survival plan. They say killers hate rejection.so you'll accept every kiss,every touch, even fall in love if needed be; you were going to live.

He suddenly took his foot off your back, his footsteps growing faint, yet petrifingly close. Snatching this opportune time, you continued to crawl away. He watched you from afar, with a assumed expression. Spending your time crawling to nowhere, johnny patiently bided his time. For the warm orange flame flickering under his eyes, was just picking up. So caught up in your hopeful efforts, and devising your plan. you missed the lingering trail of smoke. You carelessly disregarded every firey sign of inpending torture, and you were going to pay for it dearly.

"oh no? leaving already?" johnny's tone was filled with mocking empathy. No matter how hard you tried, your effort didn't get you far. With a few steps, Johhny was above you again. Once again his smothering foot met your back. leaning down, he purposely put his weight onto your weak back. "Boy, aren't you a sweet sight? I'd hate for you to run off one day, but if you do. let's make sure a kind soul can bring you back home.". His words were purposely vague, he could feel the confusion swirling and sinking heavy in your stomach. In his hand held a brass "J" branding iron, that your poor eyes didnt notice.

A harsh stinging slap to your ass, caused your body to jolt forward under Johhny's boot. your teeth gritted in pain, as it eased into a stressed exhale. only a second of peace was given to you, before your eyes widen with hot tears. Burning heat plunged into the flesh of your hip, seeping down to the bone. As the sensation raised up to your chest, your mouth opened to let out a shrill agonizing scream. before it could ring through the night air, Johnny's hand met your mouth. Quickly choking out your heart-rendering cries. Over stimulated with pain, your body begged for rest. He smirked as your body fell limp, your chest softly heaving with shock.

What have you done to earn this nightmare? you were raised as a church girl. Maybe you partied a bit too hard to be considered devout. But you were still a virgin, attended every sunday service, and treated everyone with love. How were you now prey to the, "bad man" Infront of you?. In your fog, you yearned to look into the eyes of the man towering before you. The night sky and lazy clouds swallowed all light, not a single star nor the moon was shining for you. Deep down without making out his face, you just knew johnny was grinning with hunger. "Hey there! "He suddenly come face to face with you. His hands firmly grasping your wrists. You saw his face clear as day now. The sadistic yet playful smile on his face, coupled with the gentle caressing of your cheek. Brought to you a uneasy sense of comfort.

"Don't cry sweetheart, ill try to make this quick." He closely observed your eyes, for any signs of opposition. you never seen a man nor animal, With such endlessly devoid eyes in your life. Johnny chuckled at your mindless deer in head lights expression. He brought his thumb to you bottom lip, feeling the delicate plush of it. Soft grazes became harsh once he grasped your chin, yanking your head up to his attention. His thumb no longer gently tracing, it now pressed hard against your lip in a rough pinch. Suddenly your haze lifted, you began to realize your position. Your head moving around, taking in your helpless environment.

Your frantic display of fear brought out a deep groan of pleasure out of johnny. The groan trailed off into a deep sadistic chuckle. That almost drowned out the soft bell like sounds of his unbuckling belt. A growl rumbled deep from his chest down to your stomach. He perched himself on your mid-section to stop any attempt of escape, encasing your small frame between his knees. With each squirm you caused his body to rock and grind against you. lighting would strike you down, if you said you didn't like his hard length throbbing against your skin. "Look, look at me!" He snapped at you. Your frightened efforts to not look at him, Slowly wore down his patience. His right hand which held your wrists together. Forced them above your head, he hadn't yet forgotten your wounded hand.

Maliciously his fingertips applied pressure on the fresh cut, the feeling made you swear his fingers were deep in your wound. which made your skin began to crawl with disgust. The Increasing pain caused you to cry out and arch back, in an attempt to get his weight off of you. He allowed you to arch your body, he reveled in how you moved for him. "Oh? Needy, aren't you? For a devout little church girl." He relished in teasing you, while his now bloodied fingertips traveled up your thigh. Finding purchase between your legs. Fingertips running up your thoroughly soaked panties, teasing your covered slit. Although his fingers were now coated in your sweet juice, He desired more from you. Suddenly, johnny's head become lost between your legs. He'd use is teeth to delicately pull your panties to the side, giving his fingertips free range to slowly push into your tight gummy entrance. He made sure to leave a intense fluttering sensation coursing up your spine. He leaned up to you, as you let out a soft moan. He parted his lips as yours did, letting out a pleased groan of his own. He took a moment to relish in your shameless state. Before grabbing the soaked lace mess and greedily ripping it off with little to no effort.

Your eyes widened as you tried to close your legs, hiding yourself as best as you could. "Oh sweetheart, don't tell me you don't want me to fuck you? With how wet you are?" His bare calloused hands gripped your thighs bruisingly tight, no longer caring what you do with your hands. Impatiently yanking your body down to meet his hips. His length throbbing against your pussy, as it radiated your heat covering his shaft with your slick. "I hate to tell you, but I have to fuck you now, since you begged and all" before you could even plea for him to stop or fight back. The air was taken out of your lungs, as you moaned out. Hot tears welled in your eyes. He pulled you down forcefully flush onto his cock, not caring you were unexperienced.

You watched his wild ravenous grin, as the strength of his hips made each thrust deeper and rougher than the last. He loved watching the tears roll from your eyes. Mesmerized by your moaning lips begging for his kiss. Johnny figured he'd give you this one kindness. Your soft moans would be choked out from you, as his large hand gripped your neck firmly. Bringing your needy lips to his, he gave you the passionate kiss you oh so desired. You found yourself running your fingers through his hair, which he hated. He began to smirk through the kiss and rewarded you with a keen vengeful bite to your bottom lip.

Your sweet blood, lingered on his tongue like liquor. Bringing him to a high, his thrusts grew needy and cruel. He lost himself, in the taste of you. Once he broke the kiss, you looked on at his shark like eyes in horror. Before you knew it, his hungry lips now wandered to your shoulder. A radiating source of your intoxicating perfume. Soft Fuzzy static began over take his mind, he knew what he wanted. And couldn't control his primal instincts. His body tensed, his muscles flexed and hardened, face buried deep into your neck hiding his internal struggle. He'd let out a animalistic grunt, a hopeless warning for you. A blood chilling scream rang from your weak throat. Johnny hungrily sunk teeth deep into your flesh. His mind now completely flooded with the roaring static. hearing your cries and french curses, faintly in the back of his mind.

"Fuuck!" johnny pulled himself out of his haze, his gaze darting to his left hand. Realizing he unknowingly took his knife out during the fog. Begrudgingly, he pushed his knife away from your body. Resisting the strong urge to kill you, atleast not yet. Instead he began to take in the sight of you. A broken mess, panting like a well fucked whore. He'd steady his position with his hand besides your head, now resting his weight on his arm. A frustrated whine echoed from your chest, demanding release. He felt your tight little pussy clench around him, your body ready to cum without his permission. His eyes glared deep into yours, his thrusts now mercilessly deep. greeting the very depths of you, abusing your cervix with his controlling strength. "You tight greedy whore-" He grunted, as you defiantly closed your thighs. Johnny smirked and decided not to go easy anymore. he pressed your thighs back against your chest. Thrusts bottoming out, as your core now ached against the girth of his length.

"J-...Johnny!" With the needy moan of his name. You finally broke, cumming on his thick punishing length. You began to tremble, as the wave rode through your body. You sweet inexperienced doll, you thought once you came it was over, not just yet. you began to stare down at the mess of your bodies, you watched as his cock stroked in and out of your gushing mess of a pussy. Mercilessly pumping out your cream, while your aching pussy wrapped around tight. carelessly you dared to drag your fingertips down his sweat covered torso, down to the base of his working cock. Luckily, he was too high off the feeling of his rushing edge, to punish your touch. His body pressed heavily on yours, he savored each sound your crying, messy body made. His body soon raised up again, his leaning head back getting a full view of you. Eyes sitting low, while his tounge wolfishly licked the dried blood off his smirking lips. You felt his fingertips digging deep into the plush of your ass. Which gave into his wake, bloody scratches and crescents from his nails adorning your ass.

"Take it! Take it!" His voice dripped with a carnal venom. His pace now sloppy against the twitch of his cock. Each twitch reminded him of how defiantly tight you were, not allowing him to stretch you even a centimeter more without a challenge. With a satisfied deep hiss, he claimed you. Filling your assaulted cunt with his hot thick seed. You panted with relief , Your body lightly trembled with each breath you took, until your nerves eased for him.

"Oh? sweet as a kitten now, aren't you?" he lazily pulled his satisfied cock out of you. He chuckled at your sweet face, before turning his attention to fixing himself up. Somewhere you found the strength to pull yourself up, weakly sitting on your tired knees. You began to admire the shape of his face, eyes tracing each scar, your chest fluttered at the mere presence of him. He didn't know what he was going to do with you, let alone a child. But that was the price to pay, he planned on selfishly keeping you as long as he could. His strong arms, carefully wrapped around your chest. Pulling you into his arms, practically cradling you like a feral kitten. "It's time to bring my prized catch home."

CHAPTER 1 END

Chapter 2 preview:

"Do you remember?"

Your eyes fluttered open, to the familiar melody. The upbeat romantic song that played during your wedding, bringing you a warm feeling of safety. The safety you cherished when you were finally found,finally free. But it was strange, your lazy eyes caught the time. 3:15 am, why would he play this so late?

"Do you remember how it all began?"

You remember your husband's disappointed confusion at his broken record player. Which now played eerily off key, deep and slow. Why would he play music on it now? Lazily your feet shuffled against the carpet. And unexpectedly met the soft rattle of your son's comfort blanket. Now Perplexed, you examined the small bat covered blanket. Abruptly, the flashing blue and white lights of your TV caught your full attention.

"I bet you remember, I bet you remember"

You felt the fear on your fingertips, as they glided against the wooden stair railing. Holding your breath, in a attempt to stop your heart from beating so violently. With each braved stair, your skin crawled with a stabbing chill that only increased. Untill you stopped half way, there he was. Your baby boy, being held by a shadowy stranger.

"Da-da!" The sweet babble from your baby boy, brought you so much dread. He could never piece his babbles into a clear "Pa-pa" or "Da-da", To your husband's dismay. But now sitting on the knee of a stranger, he joyfully rang out his new found word

The stranger leaned down, playfully shaking a teddy bear. While the baby sucked on his knuckles feeling truly entertained. Dark eyes slowly cut from him to you.

"Does mama remember me?" You knew that build, those eyes, and that damned intoxicating southern twang. With no more stairs to stall the inevitable, you now stood in Johnny's open veiw. You watched the corners of his mouth, curl into his signature devilish grin."Well, Hey there sweetheart!"

"Do you remember the time, when we first fell in love?"

#johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter x oc #johnny slaughter #tcm johnny #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm game #tcm smut

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maffickingcowplants · 2 months ago

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Day 5 of 7, Fall 2006

Mortimer Goth feels the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders as he walks into the Rattlesnake Bar. The noise of clinking glasses and chatter feels distant, almost muted, compared to the storm brewing inside his mind. Bella is still missing, Cassandra is pregnant with a child he’s not sure she’s ready for, and every day he feels more like the walls are closing in on him. The true crime enthusiasts, the conspiracy theorists, and the arm-chair sleuths have taken to the internet to dissect every detail of Bella’s disappearance, and more than a few fingers are pointing at him. The police investigation is going nowhere, growing colder by the day, and Mortimer is starting to feel like he’s losing his grip on reality.

In need of someone to talk to, he sends a text to Nina Caliente. She responds quickly, suggesting they meet for a mid-day drink at the Rattlesnake Bar. It’s an odd choice, Mortimer thinks, but he’s desperate for a friendly ear, so he agrees.

When he arrives, Nina is already at the bar, looking effortlessly put together, her bright red hair catching the dim light. She greets him with a smile and a casual "Hey, Morty," as if they’re old friends, and Mortimer can’t help but feel a little relieved. He orders a drink, and Nina quickly suggests another, then another, always keeping his glass full. As he pours out his heart to her, she listens with an attentive ear, her eyes locked onto his, occasionally throwing in a "You poor thing" or "That must be so hard." Mortimer doesn’t notice at first how much he’s had to drink, or the way Nina’s hand lingers on his arm, or how her "Morty"s take on a playfully familiar tone that makes him feel vulnerable, almost comforted.

After what feels like an eternity of venting, Nina suggests they step outside to get some fresh air. The bar is stifling, and Mortimer, his senses dulled by the alcohol, agrees without much thought. Outside, on the deserted patio, the hot desert air hits him, but it does little to clear his head. Nina’s flirting becomes more blatant — she talks about how lonely he must be, how difficult it must be to go home to an empty house, and how she’s there for him, if he needs anything.

Mortimer begins to feel a little uneasy, but Nina is persistent. She leans in closer, her breath warm against his neck as she presses herself against him, her lips brushing his skin. In a moment of weakness, Mortimer lets himself fall into her touch, all the pain and loneliness of the past few months crashing down on him. But as she pulls him into a kiss, something inside him snaps back to reality. He stands abruptly, mumbling something about needing to go, and fumbles for his phone to call a car.

Nina, however, doesn’t miss a beat. She wraps her arms around him in a tight hug, whispering something about how he doesn’t need to leave just yet, pressing her lips to his neck again. Mortimer, dazed and confused, doesn’t resist as she takes his hand and leads him to the waiting car.

Before he knows it, they’re at her house, and Nina is giving him a “tour” that ends in her bedroom. His resolve crumbles completely, and they fall into bed together.

Afterward, as they lie together in the dim light of her bedroom, Mortimer starts to feel the weight of what’s happened. The room feels stifling now, the alcohol in his system mixing with regret and confusion. Nina, sensing his unease, checks the time and casually suggests he should head home. Mortimer gets up, his movements sluggish, and heads to the bathroom to gather himself. As he washes his hands, he looks into the mirror, trying to recognize the man staring back at him. Meanwhile, Nina touches her belly, a strange look in her eyes as she watches him return.

Fully dressed again, Mortimer is ready to leave, hoping to put this entire afternoon behind him, when the front door suddenly swings open. Standing in the doorway is a tall, imposing man — Nina’s husband, Jaxon. Mortimer freezes, his heart sinking as he realizes the full extent of his mistake.

Jaxon’s eyes narrow, instantly recognizing that something is off. “Who the hell is this?” he demands, his voice thick with suspicion.

“This is just my brother-in-law,” Nina says with a breezy laugh, trying to diffuse the situation.

“This isn’t Michael!” Jaxon snaps back, his anger barely contained.

“No, Jaxie, baby, it’s Mortimer Goth, Bella’s husband,” Nina says, a wicked smile playing on her lips as she watches the realization dawn on Mortimer’s face.

Mortimer, still slightly drunk, stumbles over his words, desperately trying to explain that he was only there to talk, but Jaxon isn’t buying it. His face contorts with rage, and as he steps forward, finger pointed at Mortimer, the situation escalates. Nina, unfazed by the tension, rolls her eyes and lets out a laugh. “Well, Morty, baby, I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

The cruelty in her voice is like a punch to the gut, and Mortimer finally sees her for who she really is. He didn’t realize Nina was married, didn’t see the trap she was laying, and now the full weight of his actions crashes down on him. The pain, the regret, and the shame all mix together as Jaxon’s voice raises, echoing through the house.

Nina, ignoring her husband’s furious outburst, gently brushes a hand against Mortimer’s cheek and whispers, “I’ll text you later.” It’s too much. Mortimer can’t take it anymore. He turns and bolts for the door, the sound of Jaxon’s yelling and Nina’s taunting laughter ringing in his ears. As he steps out into the hot sun, he fumbles with his phone, blocking Nina’s number before she can make good on her promise to text him.

He can only hope that this dalliance won’t have consequences that will haunt him forever. But deep down, he knows that whatever happens next, he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life.

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#sims 4 legacy #sims 4 #sims4 #the sims4 #the sims 4 story #the sims 4 #the sims #goth legacy #my sims #simblr #ta4 #ts4 legacy #ts4 story

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skvaderarts · 2 years ago

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Petrichor Chapter 38: Wanderer

Chapter 38: Wanderer

Note: I actually start a new job next week. It’s a temp position, but I hope it ends up being permanent because it sounds SO FUN! Unrelated, but I just wanted to tell someone! I hope you enjoy the chapter!

(-~-)

Sleepless nights bled into a delirium of distraction and defeat as he searched everywhere that they could possibly be for them and came up empty-handed. Head in hand and with his heart firmly planted in the very soles of his feet, he boarded the ferry to Fortuna in pursuit of the lead that had lost him everything. And with no acknowledgment whatsoever of the way the storm or the way that it had picked up when he’d arrived, he mosied aimlessly down the street, the crushing emptiness of true defeat and irreparable loss gripping him tightly and numbing him like frostbite in winter snow. This was all he had now, and he didn't even have it in him to fear losing it.

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

“What are you doing out here in the storm?”

The words hit him like a bolt from the blue. He suddenly noticed the cold rain that had soaked him to the bone, the heavy winds, and the way his hair hung damply in his face. But most importantly, he noticed a man standing in the doorway of a small building with a concerned look on his face. Vergil realized that he probably looked certifiably daft right now, slowly dragging himself through the elements in his quest to go nowhere in particular. He wasn’t doing the best job of keeping a low profile, was he?

He just stared at the man, unsure how he could even begin to explain the events that had led him to this moment, or if he even wanted to in the first place. He felt as though he had been cast out into a turbulent ocean, treading water despite the inevitability of his drowning. Every time he let his mind wander for even a moment he felt his emotions overflow and every emotion conceivable overcome his resolve all at once as his chest heaved and his heart pounded.

He was scared, angry, and so very alone. And he just didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t find the willpower to continue, and he didn’t know how to distract himself. He just stood there and looked at her, drenched and completely and utterly done.

“I… I don’t know.” He admitted to both the man and himself. He didn’t know why and he didn’t particularly think that it mattered at this point. He just needed to get that statement off his chest and out into the universe. He was so overcome with exhaustion and disillusionment that he wasn’t sure what even kept him anchored in reality right now. Not that he wasn’t swaying in the winds a bit. “I did but I don’t anymore.”

“Come in out of the storm. The bar’s still open. You can warm up a little. First drink’s on the house. You look like you could use it.” The man held the door open and gestured for him to come inside, clearly unwilling to stand under the small awning that covered the top of the door ineffectively for much longer. He wasn’t dressed for this kind of weather.

“I don’t… “He didn’t bother finishing that statement. After all, who would he even be talking to besides himself? He sighed and simply approached him, complying. He could always change his mind later, but he didn’t have anywhere better to be right now. Perhaps he could regain his bearings for a moment and then set out with a plan of action if he stopped and took a moment to think. He would head inside.

As he stepped through the front door and his eyes adjusted to the drastically different lighting, he immediately noticed a few things. The bar was crowded and filled with patrons who were engaged in a mixture of activities, most of which involved alcohol. The bar was filled with what could only be described as pub music, though it was a tad more reserved than what he was typically accustomed to. A group of people played darts on one side of the room and each of the three pool tables not far from them were also occupied. The space wasn’t huge, but it was lively. It seemed that even the people of Fortuna found the need to unwind, even if they did so while still wearing their ordained traditional garb.

As he absentmindedly took in the scenery, he backed toward the counter and came to a stop just as the man who had stopped him at the door took a tall picture filled with a blond fluid and roughly sat it down on the counter. Before Vergil could say anything to the man that he no realized was probably the bartender, a patron approached the counter and nodded in thanks before seizing the glass and taking their leave. The bartender then turned his back to the young white-haired man and seized a small glass bottle that was on the back side of the bar along with its matching shot glass before turning around and placing them on the bar top.

“You look like you could use something a little stronger than a beer, pall.” He said as he slid the glass towards him, gesturing towards it with a tilt of his head. Whatever was in that bottle looked more vintage than the average swill that was being dispensed from the taps. Vergil didn’t exactly frequent establishments like this, but he knew enough to know that most places didn’t exactly keep the high-priced stuff on the standard taps. The glass bottles on the back wall were normally a bit more premium, and if the ornate design on the mostly empty bottle he’d just been given was anything to by then he was willing to bet that this was a relatively strong offering in comparison. It was a spirit, by the looks of it.

“I’m not thirsty,” Vergil said for lack of a better explanation in regards to why he wasn’t particularly interested in drinking at the moment. He didn’t really need to provide a reason, in truth. But due to the way that he had been thrust into the situation, he certainly felt like he did.

He’d never really been one to partake in that sort of thing outside of the occasional sip of wine with… her. But that was behind him now. Or he liked to think so. Incorrectly. He was in denial and he knew it, and the only positive that could be gleaned from that reality was the understanding that although he might be in denial, at least he was aware of it. But what did that even mean for him? Was it truly denial if you acknowledged it? And if he was aware of his own shortcomings did his lack of effort to do anything about them amount to acceptance, indifference, or an inability to change? How did one know what could and couldn’t be changed about themselves so they did not spend the majority of their time trying to alter the aspects of themself that they liked least but could not sway, and what did it say about them if they simply chose to do nothing when there was even the slightest chance that they could do something meaningful? Was inaction the same as acceptance?

If he kept up this line of thinking he was going to need that drink after all. He was spiraling. He needed to ground himself.

“Well, I’ll leave this right here in case you change you’re mind.” The bartender said with a chuckle. He wasn’t in the business of peer-pressuring folks into slamming down drinks. His business might not be the best on nights like this, but he wasn’t that desperate just yet and his morals certainly hadn’t eroded to that degree. “Fortuna doesn’t get many visitors, but the few we do, well, they always end up in my establishment. Or at least it feels that way. Can’t complain. Your money is just as green as everyone else’s. You passing through town?”

“Why do you ask?” His tone wasn’t quite suspicious, but his curiosity was certainly piqued. He had no reason to suspect any ulterior motives as of yet, but he was always cautious of the kindness of a stranger, especially one who approached him. And in a city like this that was known for shunning and distrusting strangers? All the more suspicious. One could argue that his profession had led to the development of a more personable demeanor, or perhaps the latter had led him to the former in the first place, but it could also be argued that he didn’t need a reason to be up to something.

The bartender chucked again, shaking his head. It was hard to tell if he was amused or actively taking pity on the young disheveled man. He just had one of those faces that were hard to read, but his eyes had a sort of unknowable but welcoming kindness to them that threatened to put him at ease lest he actively remind himself of the consequences that tended to follow when he allowed himself to relax. He was like a burly lumberjack with a soft heart. Perhaps a bit gruff, but totally easy to talk to and perhaps easier to trust. Unless you were the distrustful sort, that was. And even then…

“Because I’ve got an empty bed upstairs you can fall in for the night if you want it. Room isn’t made up yet but it’s better than freezing out front on the steps. Marginally less wet, too.” The man folded his arms around himself, scanning the room as if to assess the current state of things. When he finished silently taking stock of things he returned his attention to the man in the blue coat, his voice unchanged and still holding that same pleasant gravel. “Being soaked to the bone with the bay winds blowing through here is a no-go. Once that chill sets into your bones it’s not going anywhere.”

That actually sounded appealing to him. And the longer he stayed in this establishment, the warmer and cozier he became. He didn’t fancy going back out there now and wandering the streets aimlessly, unable to focus on the task that had brought him here. But now Vergil had his own question to ask. “That sounds… I think I would like that. What do I owe you?”

“Now you just stop there. Didn’t say anything about payment, now did I?” The man seemed surprised but not particularly bothered by the assumption that he would require payment. It wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion to reach, after all. This was a business. Those typically needed money to operate.

“All transactions require payment by definition,” Vergil said flatly, fatigue setting in. He needed it to be clear on where they stood. He didn’t have the reserve brain power required to think or worry about debts at the moment. “I don’t like to owe people.”

“That might be the case, but not every conversation with a man behind a bar is a transaction, either.” He shrugged, unbothered by the assessment. Vergil wasn’t completely wrong, but he was mistaken in regards to the entire point of this conversation. “And besides, I wouldn’t be able to call my business successful if I can’t treat folks in need to a warm bed and a drink every now and then. Times are never that hard. Not for me.”

“Why do this for someone you just met? Who’s name you don’t even know.” Vergil asked, admittedly surprised by the revelation that he desired no compensation for his overabundance of kindness. Good, selfless people existed. This was a fact that he was well aware of. He just didn’t run into them personally very often. And at a time like this…

“Simple.” He said as he lowered both the tone and the pitch of his voice so as not to be heard as he leaned closer to Vergil and looked him in the eye. “Because as enlightening as the Order’s sermons might be, and however filled with positive messages about how best to treat my fellow man their doctrine might be, I don’t need the words of the Order or a single one of their gospels to know how to be a half decent human being who shows his other people the bare minimum of compassion. I know that look in your eye. You’ve been through something. I just want to remind you that there’s still good in this world after all.”

Vergil just stared at him for a moment. He wasn’t entirely sure what he could even say to something like that. It was the truth. Morality and religion could walk hand in hand in just the say way that they could function entirely independently of one another. And they often did. He didn’t disagree with that conclusion in the slightest. This was simply the last place he’d expected to meet anyone who thought that way.

“Well said. I… I might have that drink after all.”

The bartender cacked a warm, pleased smile, and the young man with the white hair got the impression that it probably wasn’t in response to his decision to have a drink. At least not entirely. He was clearly glad that he knew he’d be staying, at least for the time being. That was one less drifter freezing to death in the streets for one night to worry about. It was something.

“Good. And when you’re ready for that bed it’s room 6 on the third floor. Keys are on the wall right over the bar.” He pointed to the hooks on the wall a few feet away, sets of numbered keys hanging from them. “Make yourself comfortable. We don’t close for a long while now.”

Vergil nodded in confirmation, somewhat amused by the fact that this man apparently wasn’t very superstitious. It was exceedingly rare to find a room number with a 6 anywhere. And in a town like Fortuna? That had to be a room that only outsiders rented. Everyone on this island was probably apprehensive about that decision. It must be his lucky night. “I just might. Thank you.”

(-~-)

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I think chapter 40 will officially be the end of this Arc, and although it’s been a wild ride with a lot of difficulties, it’s also been a total blast to write. And I can’t even begin to tell you how excited I am about the next arc! So much is going to happen! The last 40 chapters just flew by, didn’t they? Thank you so much for continuing to read this story. I hope I’m not getting too bogged down in the details and that I’m not boring any of you. Thanks for sticking with me. I’ll see you in the comments if you’d like to chat, and, as always, take care! I’ll see you next Friday. The new job starts Thursday, and I don’t know my hours yet, but I’ll keep you all posted. I’m happy to say that my hand feels MUCH better, so here’s hoping!

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drxwsyni · 4 years ago

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show me heaven, take me to hell︱okkotsu yuuta x f!reader

“Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore. He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.” a/n: this is my part for @seita’s corrupt-a-virgin collab! i was really excited to write a fic with this prompt, and this collab was super fun so pls go check out the other writers involved!!! words: 3.7k warnings: ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP 18+, noncon, somnophilia, virginity loss, rough-ish sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, choking for a quick moment, creampie, a little praise, heavy stalking & obsessive behaviour, gen. yandere themes

Yuuta liked to think he had control over his emotions—but peering down at you, he knew that was far from the truth. How those emotions manifested was what he could control, because if it weren’t for the steely expression cemented into his face, he’d be sure you’d know of all the debased things running rampant throughout his mind.

And yet, he doesn’t fear the falter in his masquerade right now.

You’re fast asleep, none the wiser to the looming figure of your boyfriend, locked onto the way your chest slowly rises and falls in a rhythmic manner. How his eyes nearly gloss over as they travel down the curves of your body, half exposed as you’ve only pulled the sheets up to settle around your waist.

Yuuta reminds himself to breathe, exhaling a little too shakily, wondering to himself how he’s made it this far. He was a damn good actor, and he knows that fact currently stood as the only thing that’s gotten him to where he is today.

If he thinks back, it’s hard to even find one moment out of all the time he’s spent with you in which he’d shown you his genuine self. Hell, the very first time you spoke to him wasn’t even honest. He remembers asking you your name after introducing himself, lying through his teeth because he already knew what your name was. Yuuta knew what rank you were (well below his), your cursed technique (too weak to really protect yourself), how long you’d been working alongside Gojo (two weeks―starting the day after Yuuta had gone overseas). But he still asked, enamoured with the way you bashfully looked down at your feet when he praised you for being able to put up with the white haired sorcerer so far.

Another lie―how he claimed he’d love to team up with you and show you around, when it was just to keep you as far from any real danger as possible.

But you didn’t know that, going along with each and every falsehood that left his mouth. Lie after lie, he’d draw on the knowledge of you he’d spent months gathering, gradually molding his character into whichever form earned those soft little gifts of affection. Becoming the person you wanted, the person you needed, slowly until you recognized him as someone special. Yuuta did everything right—only to be completely overwhelmed now that he had you alone.

Because of course suppressing himself wouldn’t work out in the long run. Burying the desire that felt goddamn near insatiable, ignoring the feeling of it festering, growing into something ugly and uncontrollable—the kind of thing he saw in others, and exactly what he was trying to protect you from. But Yuuta wouldn’t let himself believe that what you really needed protecting from was him, even though standing over you now, proof of that reality was finally beginning to surface.

Just for a second, maybe not even that, it crossed his mind—just a taste couldn’t hurt, right?

The bound passion he could never let see the light of day unraveled in the dead of night. You were just so tempting, blissfully unaware of the danger towering over you, a vulnerability that tore away at the seams of his self control.

Yuuta felt the first thread snap, a barely there fracture to spur his irreversible descent into self-destruction.

Moving without really even thinking of any future consequences, long fingers that were calloused from battle and endless training reached to where the sheets atop you rested. White, silken and gleaming under the moonlight, he carefully, calculatedly pulled them down your body. Letting it pool at the foot of the bed, he slowly appraised your sleeping form.

An almost inaudible curse left him, whispered under his breath—he didn’t even notice the way your sleeping shorts were discarded onto the floor before peeling back the sheets, but he couldn’t miss it now. Maybe...you wanted him to find you like this?

No...he knew you weren’t that daring. The two of you might be dating, but all those past insistences of not wanting to move too fast, dancing around intimacy like it was the bane of all evil alone told him that this naivety was genuine.

There was that, and the fact that you were staying in his guest bedroom. Too shy to sleep in the same bed, how cute. He was all too understanding just a few hours ago, leaving you for the night and planning on retiring to his room. Only he was drawn right back to where you lay, realizing it was yet another subconscious lie to tell you he was fine with taking things slow, giving you your space.

He wasn’t even supposed to be in this room—there was absolutely no way you planned on Yuuta finding you like this.

A voice in the back of his head warns him, tugging at his subconscious to leave you be. Yuuta ignores it for the first time, crossing a new boundary, knowing that it won’t be the last.

You’re sprawled on your back with the hem of your oversized shirt riding up just a little.

A little too much, he thinks, eyes travelling lower and lower until they land on the lace trim of your panties. Thin, adorned with a small bow at the top. His fingers itch, wanting to feel the fabric for himself, likely soft in comparison to his rough hands.

Yuuta props one knee up onto the bed, the mattress sinking slightly with his weight. With one more glance, just to make completely sure you’re still fast asleep, he allows his fingers to trace up the inside of your leg. Gliding along your calf, then meeting the soft plush of your thigh. Your muscles don’t even twitch, unmoving as his hand gradually creeps higher, higher, higher.

All he needs is to be closer, something to tide him over until you’re willing to let him in. He wants to know just what it feels like to have you under him, little weaknesses you hold that nobody else knows of.

Just a taste, he reminds himself.

Yuuta peers down at you, relieved and on edge at the same time when the tips of his fingers brush against the cotton fabric of your panties. Ever so lightly, his ring finger dips lower, gently pressing against your clothed slit.

The heat between your thighs makes him shiver, warmth pulling him in impossibly closer. Your legs are spread just enough for Yuuta’s hand to fit perfectly in between them, almost invitingly so. He feels like all of his nerves are standing on end, vibrating as just the simplest touch has such a large effect on him.

It’s a familiar feeling, despite always looking at ease, he frequently had to mask these turbulent emotions inside him so that he didn’t scare you away, just as so many others did. This new sensation, not having to worry about constant control, it was unimaginably refreshing. He didn’t want it to end.

You don’t seem to be stirred in the slightest, which is good, because he’s not quite satisfied. The both of you did have a tiring day to be fair—now making you a heavy sleeper. Yuuta deems it a saving grace, curiosity unquelled in wanting to know how far he could push his luck.

That same singular finger travels along the dainty fabric, gently dragging up your folds until stopping at your clit. Experimentally pressing into it, Yuuta spots the way your brows just barely draw together for a moment. The sound of your breathing meets his ears, turned airy as your lips part when he begins rubbing back and forth, a light friction that makes your sensitive, untouched body react unconsciously as you continue to sleep.

Yuuta thinks for a second of how you touch yourself when you’re alone—if you do as he is now, teasing your clit, making you squirm at the light stimulation. You’re not waking up, but your body is still reactive even in this state. With how your panties hug the curves of your body, how he presses them into your heat, it’s not hard to see the small patch of your arousal already leaking through.

It’s cute, you’re so much more honest when you’re asleep.

An idea strikes him, coming more as an intrusive thought than anything helpful, but it’s dangerously enticing nonetheless—if he could make you cum without waking you up. Earn a glimpse of what he hoped you’d let him see eventually.

You look like you want it, chest rising and falling a little heavier, and when he pointedly nudges your clit with the smallest increase in force, your breath hitches.

It would be cruel to leave you like this—Yuuta isn’t a cruel man.

He’s doing this for you now, not himself. It’s repeated in his head, words reassuring as he slinks onto the bed. His grip is delicate, pushing your thighs apart a tad bit more, just enough to make room to lower himself between them.

Eye level with your heat, the scent of your arousal washes over him. He can’t help but place a few ghosted kisses on your inner thighs, a quick nip at the supple skin that leads to a trail of the same before his lips hover over the seat of your panties.

Through long lashes, he focuses on your face, almost shuddering with you as his tongue comes into contact with the patch of wetness, dampness growing as he licks a slow strip up over the cloth. Yuuta repeats the action—once, twice, three times, then loses count. His movements are slow, soft and steady, taking what he can get but soon becoming frustrated with the barrier in his way.

The hands placed on your thighs twitch, and it only seems logical that if he wants to finish what he started, he needs to make things a little easier for himself. An unnatural strength imbued with cursed energy flows through his palms. He’s eager, doing it without thinking, not realizing the force he puts behind his actions until the seams of your panties tear with almost no resistance.

Yuuta’s eyes widen slightly, because his plan was to merely push the fabric aside. But that problem can wait, especially when he can’t.

The offending fabric is casted aside, and Yuuta knows he wants to take his time. Testing the waters, his thumbs come up to spread apart your soaked folds, taking in the way your hole clenches around nothing as he gently blows cold air against it.

He’s not shocked to find your muscles twitching so easily now, reacting to every little thing he does. Not shocked, but it does make him greedy. It makes him want to abandon caution entirely. Taking his time turns out to be a lot easier said than done—when his tongue places a few kitten licks onto your clit, the near sinful whimper that escapes you has his lips latching on and sucking instead.

You’re always so quick to flee from him, Yuuta can barely get a lasting kiss in before you push him away. To hear that leave your mouth, intentional or not, it’s dangerous. He’s starved for intimacy, starting to lose sight on why he’s worked so hard to become close with you, drowning in the thoughts of why he instead wants to rip that safety he provides from you entirely just to see the things you keep hidden from him and everyone else.

There’s his own personal heat building, hips grinding into the mattress now and then to relieve the ache you don’t even know you’re causing in him so quickly. It doesn’t do much, if anything it only makes his resolve weaken, low groans making their way up his throat and sending soft vibrations onto your sensitive nub.

His tongue darts back out, flattening as your hips buck against his face, trying to gain more friction.

And all it tells him is that you want this—just as much as he does. You’ve never told him, but you don’t need to. Your body speaks for itself.

The wet muscle pushes past your entrance, Yuuta’s nose bumping your clit every time his head jerks when his tongue curls against your walls. From how your body tenses, the feeling unmistakable under his large hands, he can tell you’re getting close.

All the breathy sighs and whines leaving you, the overwhelming taste of you on his tongue and in his mouth, it clouds his judgment more and more as each second passes.

Yuuta forgets about the hard work he’s put in to keep you safe, to make sure you ended up choosing him over everyone else. You’re intoxicating, and he can’t get enough. There’s no such thing as just a taste, not when he’s stopped trying to hold back and instead starts trying to devour you.

You deserve more, he thinks, coating his ring finger with your slick, teasingly swirling it around your entrance before letting it sink into your heated pussy. It reaches far deeper than his tongue, and with a few thrusts, curling his finger inside you, Yuuta finds what he’s searching for as you tense hard around the slender digit. His mouth returns to your clit, sucking and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

Yet no matter what he does, it’s still not enough. He wants to watch you finally fall apart, wants you to stop pushing him away.

And he realizes, it’s not a want, but a need. One that can’t be satisfied as easily as he thought when he first removed the sheets from your unsuspecting body. Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore.

He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.

Yuuta can’t think straight to save his life, he’s hooked on the way your body shakes beneath him, adding another finger pumping in and out of you, groaning against your clit as he desperately ruts against the bed.

You’re responding so well, it only confuses him more as to why you haven’t let him take care of you sooner, as clearly you needed him like this. He can practically hear his name fall from your lips, airy and begging him for more.

His eyes are screwed shut, and yours are open.

“Ahh—Yuuta...wh—ngh”

Those calloused fingers know just how to make you shake in pleasure, not relenting as you suddenly cum around them. He feels your swollen clit throb, over and over against his tongue.

When you start to convulse, near pained whimpers leaving you, he finally stops.

He’s frozen for a moment, your full awareness dawning on him.

A sheen of sweat clings to you, chest heaving, heartbeat going a mile a minute and hammering against your ribcage. You were falling back down from the high that made you see stars, the closer to reality you got, the more you understood what had happened.

The fear would hit you first, and it’d be fast—you’d scream, fight, try to leave him.

Yuuta knew this, he knew you, and so he moved faster.

Before you could make another sound, panic rising in your throat, a firm hand clamps over your mouth.

And god, you look fucking terrified. Both hands flying up to push him away, nails biting into his wrist while tears begin to well in your eyes. Irises swirling with fear, confusion, betrayal.

It should make him feel guilty, it does—but it’s not enough to stop him from wanting to make it worse.

His palm stays cemented over your mouth, muffling your cries. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

It’s not, all your squirming does is grind against his aching cock. And he’s so far gone that he might as well go further—he doesn’t even try to stop you. The hand over your mouth pins you down well enough, your body so much weaker compared to his.

“M’sorry, just—fuck…”

You’re not calming down, struggling harder with each second that goes by while Yuuta fights to hold you still.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re okay.” With everything running through his mind, the only thing consistent and true is that he has to be inside you.

His free hand grips the waistband of his sweats and boxers, hastily pulling them both down at the same time. He hisses when the cold air of the room meets his cock, slapping against his abdomen. He’s already in between your legs, and you’re still trying to get away, hips lifting off the sheets as your legs helplessly kick. Your movements are uncalculated, frantic—it’s an accident when his cock brushes against your heat.

You squeal at the contact, but there’s nothing you can do to stop him from rutting against you, length sliding between your folds and coating him in your slick. A slight shudder runs through you as the tip of his cock catches on your puffy clit, repeatedly nudging it with each thrust.

It’s not enough. Not before, not now, he can’t seem to satisfy whatever want inside him has broken loose, and you’re forced to deal with it all because he couldn’t keep himself in check.

“Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good...promise you—”

Yuuta practically chokes on his words, lining himself up with your entrance, unable to stop his hips from pushing himself inside you all in one go. Blood rushing behind his ears drowns out the sound of your whimpers, lost in the way you keep sucking him back in when he goes to pull out. So goddamn tight—Yuuta’s glad he’s made sure he was the first to get to you, despite the circumstances.

He’s a mess, you’re a mess, it’s sloppy and it’s perfect, because the quick back and forth of his hips goes so deep that he’s grinding against your clit with each thrust. Your whines are in tandem with his movements, pain mixing with the building warmth spreading throughout you.

The body draped over yours is so much larger, broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight as Yuuta keeps himself propped up above you with a hand beside your head. The one over your mouth disappears, lightly wrapping around your throat for better purchase instead.

It’s too easy to lose himself now, letting his guard down—and you jump at the chance.

There’s a shove to his chest, and then he’s being kicked down the bed. The door is on the adjacent side of the room and so to make quick time you scramble across the bed sheets. Of course, a hand too cold clamps around your ankle, and it feels like he’s about to crush the bone beneath when Yuuta drags you back.

All your pleas go ignored, and he’s suffocating as your body is pinned against the bed by his own.

A lanky yet toned arm snakes around your waist, lifting your hips to meet his. “Just a bit—” there’s a pause, groaning as he drives his cock right back into your pussy, “—bit longer…”

Yuuta hasn’t completely forgotten why he decided to take things this far, his free hand reaching down to toy with your clit. With the new angle, his cockhead hits that soft, spongy patch that has your walls fluttering around his length.

Your fighting spirit diminishes more and more, not much strength to begin with in how you were woken up, only worsened by the way the coil in your stomach keeps tightening. When you go to shove the arm wrapped around your body, it’s not genuine, not completely at least. You’re overwhelmed just as much as him, and letting it happen doesn’t seem all that bad.

Slick is dripping down your thighs, the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room alongside his grunts and your airy moans.

There’s a shake in your body, legs unable to keep themselves up as your voice breaks through the noise. “Yuuta...p-please…”

It doesn’t matter what it is you’re begging for exactly, but he tries to console you anyways. “I’m right here, baby. Just let go for me…”

The pads of his fingers press harder circles around your clit as the cant of his hips picks up.

You’re reaching your end, unmistakable in the way you tighten around his length, your muscles contracting and releasing. Yuuta is right behind you, thrusts growing erratic, barely pulling halfway out before sinking in again.

“Ah—that’s it, cum for me, good girl—”

There’s a moment where you go quiet, body locking up and mouth opening into a silent scream. It’s enough to have Yuuta’s body reacting much the same, a harsh ‘fuck’ leaving his lips before painting your walls white. There’s no thought to pull out, just that he wants to relax with you in his arms.

You’re trembling, aftershocks washing over you in waves, especially when he slowly drags his cock out and past your g-spot before leaving you empty.

Yuuta finally releases you from his hold, watching as you slump pitifully into the mattress. There’s a trail of his cum leaking down your slit, a little pool of it forming on the sheets. You look absolutely ruined, face turned and smushed against the bed—he can see the tears heavily wetting your cheeks, mouth agape as your chest heaves.

And he just...stares. Somewhat out of breath himself, hunched over, unmoving otherwise while realization crashes down on him.

You’d never forgive him, you’ll leave the second you get the chance. What Yuuta’s done to you is irreversible.

...As far as you know.

It’s always been like this, he thinks. Yuuta keeps you endlessly in the dark, meticulous pre-planning to make sure you’re protected always. And so he steps away, tucks himself back into his boxers, pulling up his sweats and grabs his phone. It looks like you’ve pretty much fallen asleep, which makes his job easier.

Plan A through Z, Yuuta has something to fall back on no matter what.

The screen illuminates his face, fingers swiping until Inumaki’s contact shines back at him. The cursed speech user owes him a favour, and there’s no time more perfect in Yuuta’s mind than now to cash it in.

A deep sigh from him sounds throughout the room—you won’t remember this happened, none of it. Yuuta will clean you up before Inumaki arrives, use reverse cursed technique to handle any wounds you may have, and then he’ll have his friend make you forget anything past going to bed.

While he still wants to keep you safe, keep you pure—it’s no longer for the same reasons.

Darkened eyes land on your weakened form, and Yuuta knows this won’t be enough for him. You’ll push him away, he’ll get impatient...the rest is predictable, to say the least.

His message sends, phone turning black.

Somehow, he’ll need to find a way to earn more favours.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere yuuta #yandere yuta #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuuta smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #tw noncon #tw somnophilia #tw choking #tw stalking #tw virginity loss

3K notes · View notes

sin-of-jess · 3 years ago

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Shoto Todoroki

This was originally for an ask I got, but I veered too far from the point and it turned into something new!

Type: Smut

Warning: Some light dom work by Todoroki, public sex and unspoken breeding(It’ll make sense if you read it)

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Shoto was very discreet when it came to how much of a pervert he truly was. The day was innocent; the pair were going to register at a higher-end department store before heading out to eat a late lunch and head home. Shoto didn't want to blame your outfit, you looked cute but the sundress was alluring to his wandering eye. "Shoto? Oh, Shooo~" I coo at him, his eyes finally snapping up at me. He seemed unsure of what to say, "Sorry, I was thinking about... work." He said, and with hero work it was easy enough to believe. "What did you say?" He continued.

I roll my eyes and point at the array of coffee makers in front of us, "I asked if you had a preference, I know how you feel about your coffee." His eyes flitter across the selection before he points to a cappuccino/espresso maker, "That one." I nod my head and use the scanning gun on the box before moving on to the rice makers. It wasn't until we had made our way to the bedding department when I realized where his mind has been at. He was a private guy, but after so many years I started noticing little tics and habits of his. The biggest tell was how often he was furrowing his eyebrows. I spun around to look at some bedsheets and noticed how once again his eyes dropped down and his eyebrows knitted together. "Do you think my dress is a little short?" I ask him, swiveling my hips back and forth to inconspicuously lift the dress higher as it flittered around my upper thighs. He takes an audible breathe, "No," He answers. I grin and turn to use the shelves to anchor myself as I jut my ass out, "You sure? You seem very interested in it." I tease. His eyes flicker down to my backside before he begins to blush, "Sorry..." He sounds genuinely ashamed, a ping of guilt in my chest. "I was just teasing you, love. You can stare all you want, just keep up with this and we can get out of here." I tell him. It stroked the ego to have such a big-time hero ogling me, and I couldn't help but encourage him to look. He gives me a soft smile and nods his head, leaning close to me to point out a gold and white bed set, "I like these," He tells me. I scan them, along with a black and gray set on another shelf. We stay close as we mingle around the different departments, but I was quickly losing focus on the task at hand and more on my fiancee. He was fun to tease and I had a guilty pleasure of rubbing my ass on his crotch as I moved past him. "You're doing this on purpose," Shoto accuses after I push harder into him. I give him a cheeky smile, "Doing what?" I taunt as I again spin around dramatically to face him. He purses his lips together as he looks around the room. Suddenly he grabs me by the wrist and pulls me along. "Hey! Shoto, where are we going?" I ask, trying to figure out the direction he's pulling me. "Be quiet," He tells me in a kind but firm tone. There's the faintest of a blush dusted on his cheeks, and I wanted to ask what was going on when I realized we were in the winter clothing side of the store. It was big enough to hold sections like this and not lose money having it year-round, but that meant on this early summer day that it was completely barren. Shoto didn't even slow as he went straight for the back hallway that held the dressing rooms. The first two had been locked, the frustrated male swearing at the door that refused to budge. Whether luck or not the third door was unlocked, and he wasted no time in swinging me into the room. He let go of me to turn and lock the door behind us, while I merely did my best to regain my balance after being manhandled. "Okay, Shoto wh-" My words are lost in my throat as he again grabs me, pulling me against his body. His kiss is fast and dominant, standing over me and caging me in his arms as he pushes his warm lips onto mine. I grip the bottom of his shirt and lean up into the kiss, enjoying the warmth that comes naturally from him. He pushes his hips forward, silently letting me know of his hard-ons existence. I wiggle my hands until I get them between us, unbuckling his belt and fiddling with his pants until I was able to free his cock. Once freed he leans down and grabs me by my hips, lifting me with ease and pushing me up against the wall. He uses his pinky to hook my panties, exposing my core to the cold air. The head of his cock rubs against my slit for only a second before sliding inside, dropping me down until I'm fully impaled on his rod. I can't help the guttural moan that comes from me, the feeling of having his hard dick so deep inside me was like pressing a button that activated my vocal cords. He releases one of my thighs to wrap his hand over my mouth, his body pushing into me as he leans in to whisper in my ear, "You tease me like a little whore, and now you announce to the whole store that I'm fucking you?" It took A LOT of sexual frustration to get Shoto Todoroki to open his mouth and speak, and I couldn't stop my pussy from twitching at how deep and smooth his voice is. I feebly grip onto his shoulders, whining desperately as he slams his cock into me over and over. It's like he's punishing my pussy for teasing him and I'd rather die than ask him to stop now. I can feel my stomach tensing, and I try my best to grind back into him as I chase my orgasm. His hand shifts from my thigh to my hips, slamming into me so hard my head knocks into the wall. A moan slips out as he moves his hand from my mouth to the back of my head, shoving it in so that my wails of pleasure are muffled in his neck and shoulder. "Cum on me baby, milk my cock so I can fill you up," He mumbles to me, gripping my hair and trying to get as deep into me as he can. My senses are overrun and I seize up as the orgasm wracks my body. As my eyes roll into the back of my head Shoto's hips jut and then still, pumping me full of his cum. Post-orgasm passes and we regain a sense of reality, the only sound being our ragged breathing. He slowly helps me back to my feet, looking behind me at my head. "Does it hurt?" He asks as he gently prods. I burst into laughter, rubbing the back of my head and moving so that I can smile at him, "Oh man that'll be sore a while," I joke, my own little way of letting him know to not feel bad. As we situate ourselves I groan, and Shoto turns to see me with my dress up over my hips, the giant wet spot growing as his cum oozes out of me and soaks my underwear. I look up to joke at him, to find his brows furrowed while he bit at his lip and stared at the growing mess he made. My eyebrow tweaks, "Really? Is this getting to you?" His ears turn red, but he nods his head anyways. Are we ever going to make it through this stupid shopping trip?

#shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #x female reader #shoto todoroki smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut

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marshmellowtea · 2 years ago

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felt like writing a short piece about actor’s thoughts pre first suicide because the world needs more actor angst, and frankly it kinda got away from me?? so content warning for suicide, self harm, the entity being creepy as hell (including nonconsensual touching in a vague entity sort of way)(i. genuinely don’t know the best way to describe it hhdhnsvdjdb but imagine a sentient fog. yeah), and general horror themes including some light body horror. if there’s anything else to warn for, lemme know. also, i’ll probably post this to my main ao3 later.

gonna,, put this under a cut both because of the heavy subject matter but also because it got long HLKDSJFKLDF

suicide and mark are old friends by this point. he knows that when he picks up the knife.

there’s a lump in his throat, thoughts of the last time he’d made an attempt still fresh in his mind, even though it had been so long ago. he’d been just barely nineteen, finally starting university at the request of his parents, while will and damien were going off on their own separate ventures. the despair he’d felt then is similar to what he feels now, only back then there was only the threat of losing the people dearest to him, rather than the reality of it.

will had been the one who found him. who’d saved him.

wetness wells up in mark’s eyes as the memories flood his head, and though they’re hazy with blood loss and tears he still remembers being cradled in his friend’s arms as they both wept, mark’s sobs as shallow as his breaths and will murmuring to him high pitched and panicked assurances that everything would be okay, that help was on the way, that he wasn’t leaving his side. there’s the hazy sensation of will holding his hand on the ride to the hospital, of him staying by his side through his stay when mark’s own parents refused to show up. mark has long been haunted by the sheer terror in will’s voice when he’d begged him never to do that again. to let him know when things got that bad again.

he wasn’t going to be there this time, mark knows that. there would be no one here to rescue him, in fact, he made damn sure of it. the emptiness of the house that lingered even when the staff was still around has always filled him with a heavy dread, but now he just feels resignation to his fate. he’d never wanted to die alone, but he should’ve known that’s what was always in the cards for him.

he swallows hard, his grip on the knife tightening. it’s been a while since he’s actually done something like this, though he’s certainly thought about it in the years since. he’d managed to stave off the urge with cigarette burns and slices in his skin for the better part of a near decade, but now he truly has nothing left. there’s no need to keep living when all of his friends and the love of his life have cruelly decided to abandon and betray him.

still, he hesitates as he lifts the knife to his chest. he doesn’t know why—he’s not afraid, and he knows he can’t go on like this. he curses his hands for trembling and his eyes for the hot tears leaking down his cheeks, dripping into his lap.

maybe it’s because of ben. maybe knowing that one person still cared about him is nearly enough to stop his hand. but mark made sure he’d be taken care of once he was gone—it’s the least he deserved, after all, after everything he’s done for him. he doubted ben would miss him much once the dust settled, anyway. it was by sheer coincidence that he hadn’t managed to fuck up that relationship by the end, he knows that. everyone leaves him eventually, no matter how much he tries to make them stay.

he swallows thickly, his resolve hardening. he plunges the knife deep in his unlovable heart, barely registering the pain. the edges of his vision start to blacken, and he lets it happen, his eyes falling closed.

he deserves this. he deserves this. he deserves the release. he deserves the freedom from pain. he deserves to die alone and pathetic and lost and unloved and uncared for and—

—when he wakes up in a black, endless space, he thinks he’s finally done it. relief finally washes over him, and he laughs, sharp pain ripping through his chest as he does so, blood leaking from his lips and dribbling down his chin. he’s done it. he’s free. he’s free.

…right? he’s dead now. he has to be.

but something feels wrong. he feels too alive still; there’s a pulse under his skin where there shouldn’t be, and he claws at his chest, feeling the gushing wound where the knife had gone in.

It’s not fair, is it, Mark?

his stomach drops at the voice echoing around him, the vibrations of it digging under his skin. he shivers violently, curling in on himself protectively, his arms covering his head.

“what are you?” he whispers, his voice shaking. he peeks out from being his arms, terror making his eyes blow wide and his entire body tremble. “where is this? l-let me go…”

something cold and slimy runs down his spine, a mimicry of a comforting touch. mark flinches, a scream getting caught in his throat, and he tries to scoot away from the offending…darkness? tentacle? he can’t even tell what it is, but it follows him as he moves, inescapable and overwhelming.

They all left you behind. They all betrayed you. You didn’t deserve that.

mark hiccups, tears welling up in his eyes. “i don’t want to be here. i want to be dead.” he chokes on a sob, curling in tighter on himself. “please, please, i don’t—i don’t want—i want to be dead.”

the thing touching him makes his skin tingle uncomfortably, and he squirms, his nails flying to his back to scratch at his skin. the way his skin crawls is itchy and painful, and he lets out a wail, the sound ripping through his throat.

You poor darling. You poor, poor thing.

“i wanna be dead. i wanna—i wanna be dead. please.”

It’ll be alright. You and I will create something beautiful.

“please please please please please please…”

he gasps, scratching harder at himself. he starts to rock back and forth, as if that would somehow shake the thing off of him. instead, though, it just presses in closer, seeping into his skin, and he gags in horror as it starts to worm its way painfully into the hole in his chest.

it feels disgusting. it feels violating. it feels...

It’s going to be alright. Just let it happen. Ssshh.

the feeling intensifies, and mark cries out, his whole body convulsing. he coughs, sputters, flails, trying to get the damn thing off of him. it feels like he’s going to rip apart, the tingling spreading under his skin and crawling under there, running invisible, inky fingers along his organs, poking, prodding, burning.

and then suddenly...nothing. the limbs pull away, and he feels himself falling, the dark void washing away from him. he tries to scream, but his voice feels caught in his throat, his lungs aching, aching, aching. the voice speaks up again as he falls, but he can barely process what the words mean as it fades away, along with the blackness surrounding him.

Come back to me. Later. It’s not your time yet. You will see what I can give you soon.

it feels like an eternity passes, but eventually, he lands with a jolt, a gasp escaping him. his whole body feels numb, aside from the cold, aching weight in his chest, and it takes him a moment to realize what he’s feeling is the knife still stabbed through his chest.

he’s alive. he’s still alive.

despair hits him before confusion does, and he finally screams, the sound strangled and hoarse. he tugs the knife out of his chest and throws it across the room, pulling his knees to his chest and letting out a sob. he rocks himself again, just like he did when he was in that odd void. this time, it’s an attempt to comfort himself, but all he can focus on is how much pain he’s in. his stomach hurts. his chest hurts. his limbs hurts. his heart hurts.

“i want to be dead,” he whispers, a hiccup escaping him. “why aren’t i dead? why aren’t i dead?”

he cries quietly into his knees, his sobs sending ripples of sharp, stabbing pangs through him. he just wanted it all to end, but he’s still alive, and he doesn’t know why. there was something touching him, crawling around inside of him, and he doesn’t know why.

he doesn’t know how long he cries to himself. he just knows that by the time he’s done, he’s exhausted, what little energy he had leaving him with each heaving sob. he looks up from his arms, still trembling lightly, shooting the knife an unfocused stare.

he takes a moment to collect himself, wiping weakly at his eyes and taking in a deep, shaking breath. then, he gets to his feet, dragging himself to the bed and collapsing in the sheets.

when he wakes up, he will desperately try again. he will stab himself over and over and over, as many times as it takes until it sticks, as many times as it will take before he’s gone. he does not yet realize that in this house, that is impossible. he does not realize that he’s doomed to keep coming back over and over and over again, the same void and the same voice keeping him stuck there in limbo.

eventually, he will admit to himself that there is no way out, not in this place. and then, and only then, when he’s lost hope of ending his own pain, the idea to take advantage of the wrongness will come to him, whispered in a voice that nearly sounds like his own.

but for now, mark sleeps, his blood pooling blackened crimson on the sheets beneath him.

#markiplier #who killed markiplier #actor mark #marshy writes #suicide tw #self harm tw #horror

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genshin-impact-writings · 3 years ago

Note

Hello barista! May i have a Medium Moccachino with almond syrup and sugar sprinkles

(Kaeya comforting reader after a bad nightmare)

Hey there, dear! Thank you for your request, I really enjoyed writing for Kaeya again and you chose a great combination of prompts. So, without further ado, here's your drink: a medium moccachino with almond syrup and some sugar sprinkles on top. Please enjoy! <3 (Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated.)

Prompts: hurt/comfort, Character A comforting character B after a nightmare, “I’m afraid you’re going to break my heart.” + “Shh. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.” (400 followers event: JJ's coffee shop)

I’m with you – Kaeya x gn!reader (hurt/comfort)

Kaeya wasn’t sure what had woken him up in the middle of the night. Maybe it was the sound of the rain pouring down outside or the distant chatter of the Knights patrolling the streets but, in the end, it didn’t matter anyway. It was still dark outside and you were sound asleep next to him, so Kaeya shifted closer to you to drape his arm over your waist and closed his eyes again. If he was lucky, he’d get a few more hours of sleep, and if not… well, in that case he could at least enjoy the time he got to spend with you, maybe waking you up with a few kisses before your alarm went off.

A soft smile flashed over his face. Yeah, he definitely liked that idea.

It was only then when he realized that you didn’t sleep as peacefully as he had initially thought. Incoherent mumbles escaped your slightly parted lips and your brows were furrowed, almost as if you were in pain. The next moment, your hand shot up, your fingers curling around his wrist in a tight grip. “No, please,” he heard you mutter, and the sorrowful tone of your voice was enough to show him that your dreams weren’t pleasant at all. You sounded absolutely heartbroken. “Kaeya,” you continued, so quietly that he almost didn’t catch it. “Don’t leave me, please.”

His heart dropped. You were dreaming about him – leaving you? Just the thought was ridiculous to him; you had no reason to believe this, and yet, here you were, begging him not to go, even though he was right there beside you, holding you in his arms, just like he did every night when he wasn’t on duty or had to work overtime.

“(Y/N),” Kaeya whispered, carefully freeing his arm from your grasp to brush his fingertips over your cheek. “I’m here, dearie,” he reassured you softly, although you probably couldn’t hear him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He had expected you to calm down under his touch but your sleep was getting even more fitfully, to a point where you started to toss and turn as if you were experiencing the worst nightmare you ever had.

Carefully, Kaeya shook you by your shoulder after switching on the bedside light. At this point, he was convinced that it was better to wake you up and comfort you instead of watching you suffer through a nightmare that made no sense, at least to him. Why would he leave you? You were the love of his life, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his days with, and he would be more than an absolute moron if he’d ever throw that away.

He uttered your name again, his hand still resting on your shoulder. “Please, wake up. Everything’s alright, love, I’m here with you.”

When you finally stirred awake under his touch, Kaeya felt like an eternity had passed but in reality, it couldn’t be more than ten minutes. You were a bit disorientated at first, your eyes heavy with sleep as you looked up at him.

“Kaeya?” you mumbled tiredly, your voice so quiet that he could barely hear it. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, my dear. It’s me.”

You didn’t return his smile. Instead, you kept staring at him, an expression of utter disbelief on your face. “You’re here.”

Once again, Kaeya wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him in one swift movement. Your head was now resting against his chest while he rubbed comforting circles on your back. “Of course I am,” he replied softly and kissed the top of your head. “Where else would I be?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed, slowly melting into his embrace. Kaeya always had this effect on you. He made you feel safe and loved, no matter what had happened, and he was always there for you when you needed him. You had no idea how you would live without him; he was like a guiding light in the darkest night, shining just for you. Sometimes, you even felt like he was too good to be true. And – an even scarier thought – that he was too good for you.

It wasn’t that you constantly worried about these things, no. You knew that you weren’t his first love, and that was fine, but sometimes you couldn’t help but doubt that you were really the right one for him. And while you could keep these thoughts at bay pretty easily throughout the day, your subconsciousness didn’t let you forget them at night. Most of the time, you just slept badly then but occasionally, you suffered from nightmares about Kaeya leaving you – just like today.

Suddenly, there were tears in your eyes, even though you knew that Kaeya was right beside you. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that made you lose control or the fact that your dreams always seemed so awfully real but in this moment, you just couldn’t help it. In a matter of seconds, your emotions had overwhelmed you, and you were quietly sobbing into his chest.

“Oh, my dear (Y/N),” Kaeya whispered, his fingers trailing to the back of your neck to caress the soft skin there. “What’s wrong, hm?”

You didn’t reply; instead, you wrapped your arms around him tightly, as if you wanted to make sure that he’d stay here with you. He cradled you while you cried, whispering soothing words. “Shh. Don’t cry,” he mumbled and pressed another kiss to your head. “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry,” you choked out in between sobs. “It’s – it’s late. We should – sleep.”

The grip of his arms around you tightened. “Don’t apologize,” he replied quietly. “It’s okay to cry.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your tears leaving a warm, wet trail on his skin as he held you close, patiently waiting for you to calm down.

When your tears finally dried up, he gently tilted your head up and brushed his lips against yours in a gentle kiss. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You hesitated. How would he react if you told him that you were insecure about your relationship sometimes? You didn’t want to hurt his feelings but on the other hand, you felt like you owed him an explanation after he had comforted you for what had seemed like an eternity.

“It’s stupid, really,” you replied eventually. Kaeya chuckled quietly but you knew him well enough to realize that he wasn’t trying to make fun of you or your emotions. “Dearie, if it makes you cry like that in the middle of the night it’s most definitely not stupid. Talk to me, please. Maybe I can help.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m… I’m afraid you’re going to break my heart.”

There, you said it. And while a part of you already regretted your honesty, you couldn’t deny that you also felt relieved at the same time.

“Kaeya?” you whispered when he remained silent even after a few minutes had passed. “I’m sorry. I told you it’s stupid.”

He cleared his throat but even then, his voice sounded a bit breathy when he finally replied, “You really have nightmares about me leaving you?”

“I know,” you said, your face heating up in embarrassment. “It’s pathetic. Don’t bother your head about it, please.”

“But how could I not? Have I done anything that makes you think that I don’t want to be with you?”

You cringed at his words. Now that he put it like that your concerns seemed even dumber, at least to you. “No,” you said and sighed. “It’s just – I don’t know, I can’t explain it. I guess I’m just afraid that you’ll find someone better than me one day and realize that I’m not what you want or need.”

“There’s no one out there who’s better than you, love. And you are exactly what I want,” Kaeya reassured you, the tone of his voice so earnest that it made a smile flash over your face, “I love you, (Y/N). And nothing is ever going to change that. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, although you were sure that your doubts would never go away completely. But you trusted Kaeya. Even the worst nightmare couldn’t change that. And with that thought in mind, you snuggled up to him, indulging in the warmth of his body and the safety of his embrace as you allowed yourself to drift off to sleep again.

Taglist: @blissmal, @aimicoos, @childe-support, @rim0na, @sunsaturnn

#kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich imagine #kaeya x you #kaeya alberich x you #kaeya genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagine #genshin x reader #hurt/comfort #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #kaeya x gn!reader #reader insert

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deniigi · 3 years ago

Text

Lando The Nosy Neighbor AU

Title: good fences make good neighbors

Summary: Modern AU based off the premise presented to me as ‘Han and Leia move into the same neighborhood and start a feud, only to eventually overthrow the local Homeowner’s Association.’

Relationships: Pot-farmer!Han/Lawyer!Leia; Farmboy!Luke/Survivalist!Din; Lando & Breha Organa & Chewbacca

This is based off a rural community in Washington which has local cults.

Lando POV

---------------

A hippy has moved in next to the Organas.

It’s a good one, too. This one hasn’t even rented a moving truck, they’ve just come on over with all their furniture tetris-ed in on top of itself and wrapped tight with rope, blankets, and prayer.

Lando’s petunias screech for watering as the hippy throws open the truck’s door and comes staggering out, cracking his lanky back. Out of the other side comes an even hairier, even lankier person. He closes the truck door and looks right at Lando.

He stares.

It is a challenge. But of course, not one that Lando is not prepared to handle.

He points at his watering can.

Hippy Two seems to scoff.

Lando waits until he’s distracted by the first hippie struggling with the blue house’s doorknob to dump the remaining water into the pebbles under his ornamental bridge.

He returns inside and goes about his busy business, tying back the curtains.

It is always good to have someone new in the neighborhood.

It takes the hippy couple a few weeks to get settled into their new home, and in that time neither has ingratiated themselves to Lando.

The stupid one with the floppy hair caught onto Lando’s tricks at the weekly poker match held in the local bar. Lando may have lost his irrigation system, but he has not lost his dignity. It was old anyways. He’s been planning to replace it for nearly a year now. There is never a better time than the present to start making your dreams into reality.

And anyways, the floppy haired out-of-towner will get what is coming to him. Lando has already sown the seed of his demise.

Leia Organa returned home to look after her poor, sick, stubborn mother just two months ago. Breha is fine, of course, not even cancer could snuff out her fires, although she is bored of her husband and daughter trying to trap her indoors. Her immunocompromised escapades have been delightful to watch.

The Organas are always a lively group. There is never a dull moment or lack of machinations among them—especially the lady of the household. She, like Lando, appreciates a good tussle. Which is why he has pointed out to Leia that her new neighbors’ greenhouse is mighty interesting, is it not?

Lawyer Leia’s ears pricked up like a horse’s, and Breha’s sharp eyes took on new sheen.

Lando watches Leia in the mornings now, struggling to find upper-body strength and purchase on the wood of her backyard fence, among the roses and bougainvillea. She’s so tiny, Leia. Breha is not an overly large person either, and thus is no help in this endeavor to collect data on the greenhouse of questionable origins and purposes on the other side of the fence. Leia doesn’t need her, though. She needs no one. She’s seen what she needs to.

Lando pours tea from a glass pot given to him by someone in his company who wishes for their secrets to remain so and beautiful, clear amber liquid fills his cup.

He looks up to see Leia holding her phone out as far as she can without relinquishing her grip on the fence. She fumbles, trying one-handedly to document the crime before her, but alas. Even the mighty sometimes trip on the red carpet.

The phone slips. She grabs after it in slow-motion, horror filling every pore of her face.

It is gone now, that phone.

The Public Nuisances will know what she has been up to.

Lando sighs and leans back in his seat.

It is no time at all before the dropped phone is returned graciously over the white, waist-height fence that separates the Public Nuisance’s yard from the Organas’. Leia snatches her phone back and wipes it off with her hand and sleeve. The shorter public enemy, Han, he calls himself, smiles at her cheekily. He retracts his hand and gestures to the taller fence, barely visible for the fruit trees and vines, between their backyards and says something that makes Leia go very, very still.

It is, undoubtedly, a challenge. Not unlike the one that that the more polite public nuisance, Chewie, opened his and Lando’s relationship with.

Chewie has explained without mincing his words, that he and Han have come here because their last venture was lost in a snowstorm. Chewie will be damned if his precious seedlings are so callously frosted over again. The Pacific Northwest has no chance of freezing over, he says. It provides a better setting to grow stock.

Weed, he means. Marijuana. Chewie is again, not shy. He and Han make good money supplying dispensaries with their organic, hand dried leaves. It is apparently ‘artisan’ like in quality.

Lando isn’t sure he’d go that far, but yes, it is nice stuff. And yes, Leia, bastion of justice, does need to see the men’s permits.

Lando opens the window for a breeze and catches Han telling Leia that he’ll produce them if she arm wrestles him for the right to witness their authenticity. Leia agrees. Han fetches a small worktable from the house’s garage and sets it between them.

The match is over within seconds. Leia has never been so insulted in her life. She demands a rematch and, out of sheer indulgence, Han gives it to her.

He is nearly a foot taller than her. He could lift her up and over her own fence with ease if he so desired. He wins the next round. And the next one. He loses the last one by reason of having his leg deadened under the table but stands abruptly to renegade on his earlier promise.

“You watch yourself, princess,” he calls over his shoulder with his hand on his front door’s knob.

“Oh, I’ll be watching,” Leia snarls back.

Han slams the door. Chewie looks from him to Leia standing fuming in the shade of her family’s pine trees.

“Unbelievable,” she snaps at him before stomping off herself. “UNBELIEVABLE.”

Lando flicks his eyes up to see Breha’s dining room window wide open. She too, has a cup of tea. She lifts it his way and he lifts his back.

Finally, some quality entertainment once more.

Han and Leia’s hatred has become neighborhood gossip. They have begun going to extraordinary lengths to gain the others’ attention. For example, Han, in weeding his sparce flowerbeds, was careful to shove the fruits of his labor between the fence slats into Bail’s well-tended herb garden. Bail, ever the gentleman, does not mind, but of course Leia feels that her family honor has been spat upon. She collects the weeds and returns them to her owner, via mailbox. It is kind of her to put the flag down, so Han knows that he’s received a message.

The retaliation is a mural in rainbow colors commissioned by Han and painted by one of the budding young teenagers from a school about a thirty minute drive downtown. It is...psychedelic. And facing Leia’s bedroom window.

Han asked the youth who painted it to add in a figure in the center of the composition; it is a brown-haired woman dressed all in white, surrounded by thorny vines, and attempting to climb a fence. The young artist must have felt like Michelangelo in the application of those delicate strokes of artistry. They knew they were creating something holy.

Han helps that along by bracketing the figure with solar lanterns that light up at night and keep the image fully illuminated.

When Lando arrives to Breha’s side to go on a walk, arm in arm, with her and her beast of a terrier, she giggles like a schoolgirl behind her hand.

“Han is very handsome,” she tells Lando.

“He’s alright,” Lando says.

“I think he and Leia are a perfect match. Will for will. No one’s ever dared to cross her like this.”

Now that is a fact.

“I wonder if this is the start of something more,” Breha says.

“What does your husband think?” Lando asks.

Breha waves him off dismissively.

“Oh, you know. He’s convinced that Leia will kill Han in his sleep, and we will be forced to post bail, but I told him—as I’ve told you, Lando—Leia’s too smart to get caught committing axe murder. Now poisoning, that’s a different story.”

Lando wakes up and makes coffee. He turns on his computer and opens his curtains to let the light pour in and warm his hardwood floors. He stands at the window, hiding a smirk behind his mug.

Leia has had enough. She has called the Home Owner’s Association and they are standing at Han’s front doorstep.

It is about three weeks before Han and Leia have overthrown the Home Owner’s Association for interfering in their escalating romance—ahem—bloodfeud. By then, Lando’s work-from-home situation is suffering. It is impossible to focus with those two cluttering up his view with distractions left and right. He determines that, for the sake of his finances, he must direct his attention to something a little further afield.

The Lars’s vegetable stand is becoming something of an institution.

It’s about a mile or so out of Lando’s way, tucked smack in the middle of the battlefield that is the stretch of land between the survivalist cult that lives in the forest and the pseudo-Buddhists that live in their compound. The farm itself is a few acres and the Lars’s son can be seen walking around, herding livestock out of the road and into pastures.

Lando has heard whispers that this son is none other than Leia’s twin brother, but no one has the nerve to directly ask the Organas about the truth of such a scandalous idea. The most that can be said about Luke Lars-Skywalker is that he is a master of social media.

He has created a Youtube channel and an Instagram to document the practices of his family’s farm and the products they produce. He is in a twitter-war with many communities online for his videos on small-scale bee-keeping, and his family’s stand is proudly boycotted by the vegan association in the city on farmer’s market days.

It has become well-known among the farm-to-table restaurants in the city, though, and that is why Luke keeps on keeping on with his cows and his fowls and his silly camera holder.

But all that means little because Luke Lars-Skywalker is in love.

Anyone with eyes can see it.

He is in love with an ancestral enemy.

See, in this area there are not one, but two cults and naturally, they abhor and reject the others’ teachings. To the south are the pseudo-buddhist, clairvoyants who have fashioned themselves more or less as monks preoccupied with meditation, self-development, and a few fairly mystical beliefs among the rather terrifying devotion to martial arts. To the north are the survivalist whack-jobs who don’t believe in electricity or running water, but who are also, somehow, preoccupied with self development and a terrifying devotion to martial arts.

Both groups have publicly denounced the other as misguided extremists.

The rumors say that Luke and Leia’s biological father is one of the clairvoyants, and this is where the heart of the current delightful irony lays.

Luke Lars-Skywalker is in love with one of those survivalists.

Lando knows this because he has seen it with his very own eyes.

He took a trip a while back to purchase some greens from the vegetable stand and he was there for a little while, picking through the selection, when he looked up and saw Luke’s posture explode out of its lax boredom. Lando looked over his shoulder to see what Luke’s tan, freckled attention had latched onto and lo and behold.

It was a man. And not only a man, a man with a baby.

Luke stuffed knuckles into his mouth to keep from cooing as the father of the child nodded at him and meandered over to have a poke through the produce piled up on the stand. The baby, dressed carefully in layers of warm, water-resistant clothing, watched Luke right back. He smiled and grunted, waving his dark, stubby arms and Luke melted—literally collapsed into a fraction of his size behind the paystation.

The father, a white rugged guy with dark curly hair and a great deal of stubble, shifted the baby to his other arm. His worn, heavy clothing and the military-style canvas sack on his back marked him as one of the Cabin-In-the-Woods people.

Lando felt like he was watching a country romance flick in real life.

Luke gathered his courage and approached the dad and baby to ask if they were looking for anything in particular. The baby immediately held hands out to him. Luke asked the father if he could hold the little one. The father said ‘no.’

Lando nearly choked on his own spit.

“Oh, sorry buddy,” Luke said to the baby. “Daddy thinks I’m gonna eat you up.”

“He just got a bath.”

Luke gooey expression hardened in an instant.

“Excuse you. You sayin’ I’m dirty?” he asked. “You sayin’ I smell like horseshit?”

The father stared at Luke wordlessly.

“Pigshit,” he corrected.

“WHAT.”

Lando no longer needed only greens. He had to pick a cheese from this bountiful pile. Oh dear, so many to choose from.

“I said, you smell like pigshit. And he just got a bath,” the survivalist father said. “How much for the tomatoes?”

“Twenty a pound,” Luke said viciously.

“That’s steep.”

“There’s a discount for people who smell like pigshit.”

“You get a lot of those?”

“No, but I know how to wallow in the time between buyers.”

“Are you angry or something?”

“Take your damn tomatoes.”

“I didn’t pay yet—”

“Just take ‘em. Go. Go.”

“Twenty—?”

“Hey, Mr. Calrissian, that’ll be ten-fifty,” Luke said over the protests.

That was then. This is now. And Luke Lars-Skywalker has not let up on his tirade against this survivalist. Nor, it is important to note however, has the survivalist stopped coming to the vegetable stand when Luke is working it.

What is even more is that Lando can see with his own two eyes that the survivalist is not holding his baby at the vegetable stand now, as Lando closes his car door a little ways from the stand. Luke smiles at Lando as he draws near; he is bouncing at the knees. He waves the baby’s hand in greeting and the child gurgles and twists back to grab at his face.

Lando smiles and does not say anything.

He finds Chewie inspecting a sprinkler at the edge of his and Han’s yard on the way back and crosses the street to inspect it with him. It sputters. Chewie suspects outloud that their squirrels are getting stronger and more destructive by the day.

Lando asks him if he’s been the Lars’s vegetable stand since moving into town.

He has.

Lando asks if he’s ever seen Luke there, holding a baby.

He has.

Lando is smug.

“Mr. Rugged Mountain Man is falling for the farm boy,” he tells Chewie.

Chewie lifts a thick eyebrow.

“One day soon, that baby is going to go from living off the grid to living in a barn,” Lando tells him. “Mark my words.”

Chewie tells him that that is impossible without a kidnapping charge because the Rugged Mountain Man is the straightest man that he’s ever seen. Lando tells him not to judge a book by its cover.

Weirder things have happened. Han and Leia, for example.

Chewie tells him that he knows that Lando is somehow responsible for those two’s newly inescapable sexual tension and he will never forgive him for it.

Lando cannot believe his ears. Him? An instigator? Of course not, Chewie. He is but a humble spider, waiting around in his house for a fly to shake things up. He is an observer, nothing more, nothing less.

Chewie just points a finger at him.

Lando points a finger-gun back. He fires it with a click of his tongue.

#star wars #han/leia #dinluke #lando calrissian #fic #ficlet #don't mind me I'm just thinking about petty neighborhood politics

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uwuwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Shigaraki, Dabi, Shinsou and Kirishima getting caught.

Request: is it okay to ask for headcanons with Dabi, Shinsou, Shigaraki and Kirishima getting caught making out with their female s/o? - anonymous

Things are getting spicy *not really*. That’s all I have to say. Love yaa. 💖💖💖

rules

warnings: spicy times

Shigaraki Tomura

-He’s so touch starved.

-And as much as he dislikes touching others because of his quirk he still wants to be held.

-So when you two get together and he slowly gets a grip on this new situation he is at peace.

-Kisses are his favorite.

-Kisses are a very intimate action that can both be soft and dirty.

-He adored when you kissed him.

-He didn’t know much about affection but giving you a kiss when you woke up or when you came back from a mission was a must.

-Now, he is a male.

-A horny one at that.

-When your relationship reaches the stage of um NSFW content he couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

-When he couldn’t have you right then and there he would just kiss the hell out of you.

-Make out sessions with his crusty ass are a ride.

-He switches between teasing you with little nips to full out swallowing you.

-He never fails to make your knees weak though.

-You’ll be feeling your knees buckle as he has you caged between him and the wall behind the bar.

-He didn’t like the others seeing him being all soft for you so he tends to hide his affection while around LoV.

-Except Kurogiri.

-Kurogiri is his dad and he is proud to see his boy getting himself a s/o.

-Now back to the others.

-Dabi and Spinner maybe Mister Compress as well are all little shits that would most likely push him to his freaking limit and you’ll have to hold him back.

-Toga and Twice will be weird about it, Toga will fangirl over you two kissing while Twice will go from praising Shiggy *since you’re hot af* to asking him how much you scream when yall are doing the deed.

-They all are a headache for him and he hates how uncomfortable they make both of you feel.

-So it’s a really rare occasion when they actually catch you two making out.

-But one day Shiggy was feeling overly needy and you couldn’t do the do so he started kissing your neck and soon enough he had reached your lips.

-He backed you up to the nearest wall and pinned your hands above your head, raising one of your legs and hooking it over his waist.

-You were just as needy so you could only whine and let out small moans as he kissed you silly.

- “Oh god I’m gonna throw up from the crustyness- Awwww how cute.”

-Twice.....

-Shiggy jumped away from you but his kiss swollen lips gave him away immediately.

-The rest of the league filed in after him and their eyes were glued to your lips or your panting.

- “Getting freaky on a job? And then you say I’m a horn dog.”

-It was Dabi this time who spoke.

-The teasing came in from the rest of the team and you both slowly died from embarrassment.

-What was more embarrassing was that maybe just maybe Shiggy had gotten a little TOO excited and was now hiding behind you.

-Yeah kissing him was a roller coaster.

Dabi

-Salty bitch is also needy.

-Sure he may be trying to convince himself that you are just friends with benefits but that doesn’t mean he can’t kiss you silly.

-Does it make his stomach flutter when you kiss?

-Yes.

-Does he feel something warm stir in his chest?

-Yes...

-Does he feel at home every time you are on his lap, arms around his neck as you smile into your kiss?

-Also yes.

-What’s you point?

-Anyways, he really likes kissing you.

-Whenever you two are kissing you can’t really know whats in store for you.

-It may be a soft kiss, gentle and slow the type that manages to steal your breath away because you never would have expected Dabi to be this careful.

-Or it may be rough and dominant, your knees buckle by the sheer force he puts into the kiss and you are definitely getting ready for some spicy times.

-He isn’t against PDA like Shiggy, he can take the teasing and the disgusting glances he gets from the rest of the LoV but you rarely give in to his antics.

-Since you are just friends with benefits why should you?

-You have told him as such when he questioned your behavior.

-It hurts him in some weird way that he doesn’t like.

-Boy can’t accept the fact that he may be falling in love.

-So he ignores you just like you ignore him.

-Sure you have your special nights before missions but apart from that nothing else.

-You avoid each other like the plague.

-Eventually it gets to him.

-The sexual tension between you two is insufferable and the way he has to stay away from you is killing him.

-He wants to hold you again.

-God I’m soft for him.

-During one of your late nights you went outside for some fresh air because the atmosphere inside the bar was becoming suffocating from the cigarette smoke.

-That was his chance and he took it, trailing after you.

-You looked at each other for some time and I kid you not you didn’t know who moved first.

-Your lips connected and it felt so right.

-His hands roamed your sides as the kiss grew hungry and you knew what would follow.

-Then you heard the squeaking of the door opening and saw Toga at the entrance.

-Her eyes were glued on you two, Dabi’s eyes opening for a split second glancing at her before he pushed you to a wall and deepened the kiss even more.

-Toga let out a flustered giggle before going back inside.

-When you pulled apart for air, you were both panting lips red and swollen as your eyes never left the others.

- “I want to kiss you more often.”

-That was his way of saying he wanted something more than what you had right now.

-You just kissed him again.

Shinsou Hitoshi

-Poor baby is also a touch starved kitty.

-You know he loves you, he has told you as such many times while you were cuddling.

-The number of his hoodies that are now yours until they lose his s=scent is ridiculous.

-You wearing his hoodies was a way to say that you were his and he was yours.

-That didn’t stop people from hitting on you though.

-Many believed that Shinsou was plain old passive and maybe even weak.

-Everyone was aware of his quirk and what it could do so they assumed that he didn’t like using it because it would make him look villainous.

-So they took that into their advantage and hit on you mercilessly.

-You always pushed them away and roast their asses.

-They even have the audacity to flirt with you while Shinsou is close to yall.

-And it hurts his feelings poor baby.

-Did others really see him as not good enough for you?

-His insecurities get the better of him and he pouts for the rest of the day.

-Until you are alone and you cuddle the life out of him, peppering him with kisses and ‘I love you’s.

-You set out to scare his insecurities away with your affection.

-There are times though when his insecurities don’t come out.

-They are replaced by jealousy.

-And a jealous Shinsou is a horny Shinsou.

-He would drag you somewhere you couldn’t be seen easily and would just kiss the life out of you.

-Your leg is probed over his waist as his hand was squeezing your upper thigh.

-His other hand is buried in your hair as he nips at your neck, jaw , lower lip before he starts to kiss you again.

-You let out little moans as he continues driving you crazy.

- “Shinsou man wasn’t that your girl back there-”

-Kaminari.

-Of course.

-The lights went out when you two parted and Kami was faced with your flustered face and Shinsou’s swollen lips.

-He passed out like a second later, his face a beet red as little sparks left his fingers.

-It was hilarious and embarrassing.

-You had to apologize when he woke up but before you could do anything, Shinsou managed to pin you to the wall again and leave a very obvious hickey on the column of your neck.

-No one approached you after they saw that hickey.

-Maybe one or two tried getting with you again.

-The next day you appeared with another hickey.

-They got the message boo.

Kirishima Eijirou

-Hesitation?

-What is that?

-Don’t know her.

-His PDA game is so strong.

-He legit can’t keep his hands off of you.

-An arm around your waist, one of his hands in your back pocket, hugs from behind, small kisses on the cheek or pecks on the lips.

-The bakusquad is sick of it.

-And by bakusquad I mean Bakugou.

-Mina is excited for her friend, Kaminari is a dumb horny idiot so he doesn’t mind borderline enjoys it and Sero....is high so he isn’t really in touch with reality.

-So kissing you in public was common.

-Small pecks though.

-Making out sessions in public is a nono.

-You made that rule because you didn’t like the looks you were getting.

-Now if he suggests that you go behind the school for some one on one time you won’t so no per say.

-Sure you’ll hesitate but after a few soft kisses that lingered just enough to leave you wanting for more.

-You basically pounce on him.

-Once you are behind the school you don’t waste time before your lips are on his and the kiss is turning hungry.

-Hands under his shirt as his own hands roam your thighs.

-He may dip under your skirt for a fleeting moment making you gasp and kissing you harder.

-You never go further while you’re out in public.

-Public kissing is different form public sex.

-Much different.

-While you are kissing him everything zones out and he is the only thing you can concentrate on.

-Then you hear a choking sound and a high pitched squeal.

-Turning around you are met with a passed out Izuku and a nose bleeding Mineta who has zoned in on Kiri’s hand under your skirt.

-You have a stare off with the grape boy before the embarrassment sets in and you are hiding behind you boyfriend, shielding yourself from Mineta’s eyes as much as you can and bury your head in his shirt.

-Kirishima is still looking at Izuku who is passed out.

-Then he notices Mineta who is drooling over your legs that are peeking out from behind Kiri and he goes straight to protective boyfriend mode.

-He is grabbing your hand as he gives you a last kiss on the cheek and tells you to take Izuku to Recovery Girl.

-He will deal with Mineta.

-He too ended up in Recovery Girl sporting a black eye.

-Love this little shark with all my heart.

TAG TEAM AY: @iwaqchan @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei

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taetaespeaches · 4 years ago

Text

“Are you sure you want to take a nap right now, Dear?”

jimin x reader (oc) genre: smut; fluff word count: 3.5K

a/n: hi lovelies!! This is a week late but I hope you all enjoy it. Jimin is just full of surprises and very much in love with Dear/reader. And the feeling is mututal. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

Arriving at your empty apartment after a long day and knowing Jimin would not be joining you later that night was, well, shitty. Everything was so quiet. Dragging your feet to your bedroom with a huff, you eyed the plush bear sitting on the bed.

Jimin had given you the stuffed animal early on in your relationship and it served as a decent cuddle buddy during your boyfriend’s long tours. But it wasn’t Jimin.

Tours were never easy, especially for you and Jimin. A history of insecurities following you both had riddled your minds with doubt in the past, even leading to a temporary separation. However, this tour, though difficult and lonely as always, you both felt more secure.

Communication was consistent between you, allowing you both to address any fears or anxieties as they happened. Though he was miles and miles away, he felt close. You could breathe this time around.

But fuck, you missed your boyfriend.

Stepping out of your work clothes, you slipped on one of Jimin’s t-shirts. It was losing his scent, but if you focused enough, you could still smell the man on the clothing. Walking to the bed, you tapped on the phone screen to check the time. 5:34 pm. Pouting, you mentally counted the hours until your scheduled facetime call with the man would commence. What were you meantd to do with the remaining three hours and twenty-sex minutes?

The group’s tour was coming to a close soon- just a couple more weeks. He was in Japan before the last week of shows started, filming a few things in the meantime. At least with him being just on the other side of the Sea of Japan you were existing under the same position of the sun. Time zones get confusing when he’s traveling nonstop.

Lying across the bed, you held your phone out in front of you as you went to shoot your boyfriend a text.

You: You better be taking care of yourself, my love. I’m gonna take a nap, I’ll text when I wake up. I love you. Can’t wait to see your face in a bit!

Locking the phone, you set it aside on the comforter, grabbing the little bear to cuddle up next to as you tried to get comfy. Definitely not Jimin, you thought. You weren’t sure if you would get any sleep, but it would pass the time. As the end of tour neared, the days became longer.

Absentmindedly, your eyes closed as you tried to lose yourself in slumber, you spun the promise ring that was situated on your finger. It was just a simple piece of jewelry, but its presence on your body served as a reminder of the promise you and Jimin made to each other.

A promise to wait for one another when he was away; a promise that feelings would never lessen through the distance; a promise to trust each other and the relationship, to communicate, to not lose a fight with personal insecurities. A promise that he would always return home. Home to you.

As you opened your eyes to look at the ring, spotting the little PJM engraved on it, a light smile graced your features. Your relationship with Jimin had always been complicated, ever since the start. The obvious attraction was pushed aside for two whole years as you tried to find yourself so you could be your best, for you and for him. But he waited. He cherished your friendship instead, giving you the best of him every single day.

It was hard not to allow the few months you had difficulties as a couple to taint the entire union. Both of you, dealing with your own insecurities, had been pulling away because you thought that was what the other person wanted, only to later find out you both wanted to be closer. Always responding to each other but never communicating. Tours were scary. It had brought out the worst in you both before, but you refused to let it happen again. As he was away, you would always be there waiting for him. Just as he had waited for you years earlier.

You found that physical distance was much easier to combat than emotional distance. You could handle the miles, because you knew he was never really very far. And he’d always return home.

Lost in memories of your relationship, appreciating every challenge as they got you to this point of security, you were suddenly ripped from your thoughts by unexpected disruptions coming from your front door. There was no knocking, but it sounded as though the barrier had been breached.

Heart racing, you sat up in the bed, listening as quiet footsteps approached the bedroom. Reaching for your phone, you prepared to dial for help when suddenly your name was called out, just before the door opened to reveal him. Stunning as ever, smiling brightly, tired eyes only adding to his cuddly presentation, slim fitting sweatpants hugging his legs as the top half was shrouded in a baggy sweatshirt.

“Jimin,” you breathed out, tears instantly filling your eyes.

“Are you sure you want to take a nap right now, Dear?” He teased, that mischievous grin greeting your orbs as a smile curved on your lips.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked him in disbelief as you leaped off the bed, Jimin rushing to you with open arms, both of your smiles bright, expressing nothing but pure love and joy. Your bodies crashed into each other less than gracefully, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck as his own secured around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to him.

The first thing to hit your senses was the feel of him. The man buried his face in your hair as you nuzzled yours against his neck, the warmth of him filling you with comfort. You could feel his heart beating through his chest, melting into the pulses of your own. It was amazing how much a person could feel like home. The second was his scent. The one that was fading on the very shirt you wore. The fragrance, so distinctly Jimin, could make you cry if you focused on it for too long.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered in relief. Relief to have you back in his arms, to not be oceans or continents away. Tightening your grip around him, you didn’t respond, not trusting your voice as tears dropped onto the clothing covering his shoulder.

You didn’t know how long you stood there like that in your bedroom, holding onto each other for the first time in months, simply feeling one another’s physical existence. You missed existing with him. The weight of the ring was pale in comparison to having him in your arms, his body joined with yours.

Eventually, you pulled away just enough to be able to bring your hands to the sides of his face, holding him there so you could appreciate his features up close.

“Oh, Dear, don’t cry,” he cooed, his mouth forming into that smile you adored so much.

“But I missed you too,” you finally replied, a light breathy laugh leaving your lips at his chuckle that left his pretty lips and greeted your ears. And just like that, those pretty lips were on yours, kissing you needily, passionately, wantingly. The meeting was hot, burning almost. It was controlled but fervent in how his lips caressed your own, the man trying to express every bit of emotion he felt for you through the action.

His hands slid under the bottom of your shirt, his shirt, the man smirking against your mouth.

“Is this mine?” He teased, you smiling as you shook your head at his sudden cockiness.

“Shut up,” you told him, reattaching your mouth to his, his tongue instantly meeting with yours. You relished in the taste of him. No promise ring or facetime call could ever fully take the place of the reality of this man. When his hands folded over the hem of the top adorning your frame, you instantly raised your arms above your head, allowing him to pull it from your body needily, his lips only leaving yours long enough to tug the clothing over your head. His hands slid up the exposed skin of your sides, reaching the curves of your breasts, the man sucking in a breath of air at their bareness.

Lightly clamping your teeth on the plumpness of his bottom lip as he pulled away, your eyes met his dark ones as his tongue ran over his lip. Breaking eye contact, he glanced down at your chest, a smirk curving on his mouth as you returned the expression with a warm smile.

“Fuck,” he breathed out in a whisper, you chuckling as you ran a hand through his soft hair at the back of his head. “Always fucking braless,” he lightheartedly complained as though your tendency to exist in a free state caused him such anguish. Giggling at him, he smiled lovingly.

Within an instant, he was pressing hot kisses to your collarbones, working his way to your chest. Arching your back, you pressed your chest toward him, the man greedily taking one of your nipples into his mouth. At the moan that left your lips, he began backing you up towards the bed, pushing you onto it as soon as your legs met the edge of the mattress.

Looking up at him, you watched as he pulled the sweatshirt from his body, fluffing his hair, making him look both adorably disheveled and sexily undone. Next came his pants, the man wasting no time in removing his clothing so he could finally be with you.

As he removed his underwear, you eyed his body appreciatively, drinking in every inch of skin upon him. Every muscle, every pore, every blemish, every bit of flesh, you craved for it. You wanted him.

Jimin quickly grabbed a condom from the bedside table drawer, smiling when he saw they were exactly as he left them. It had been too long. Turning to face you, he let out a breath of disbelief as you slid your own panties down your legs. Reaching for him, your hand gripped the bare skin of his upper thigh, tugging for him to meet you on the bed. However, the man resisted, instead dropping to his knees as he began placing sweet, gentle kisses to your knees, trailing them along the insides of your thighs.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watched him near your center with hooded eyes that stared your body down.

“Chim,” you breathed out as he left a chaste kiss to you.

“Shh,” he smirked. “Let me love you the way I’ve been craving.”

The words elicited a moan from you as you dropped your back to the bed, allowing him to show you just how much he missed you.

Jimin was very attentive. So in tune with your body, he read each moan and gesture from you like it was a manual, responding to each reaction perfectly as he programmed it all into his mind to bring you the utmost pleasure. With his skills, along with the fact that you hadn’t been touched by him in months, it didn’t take long for you to come crashing into your first orgasm, the man shooting you a stunning smile as he crawled up your body, an aura of pride enveloping him, making him all the more sexy.

“I would say don’t get cocky but you’ve earned it,” you joked and complimented through your breathlessness, just before Jimin’s lips greeted yours once again, the comment causing him to smile into the kiss.

“I really missed you,” he mumbled against your mouth, you pouting at the confession, your hands squeezing at his hips.

“Don’t leave again,” you teasingly begged, Jimin smiling almost bashfully while he sat up on his knees to situate the condom onto himself. Lowering his frame to yours once again, he kissed your nose sweetly, a soft smile gracing your features as you looked into his eyes.

“I love you so much,” he admitted just before pecking your lips. “So much.”

“I love you,” you told him as he guided himself into you, your arms gripping onto his back as he stilled for a moment, allowing himself to get used to the overwhelming feeling of you before moving. “So so much,” you damn near whimpered, your lips just barely brushing against his.

The man brushed the hair out of your face just before he kissed you hungrily, caging your body between his arms as he began dragging his hips, hitting deep within you and eliciting a moan into his mouth.

“Shit,” he breathed out, breaking the kiss, his exhale shaky as he brought his mouth to the side of your face, kissing your cheek as he continued his movements, allowing you to feel all of him. “I could never forget how you feel but fuck it almost feels like the first time,” he confessed in a hushed voice near your ear, a small chuckle attached to the words. Giggling in response, you dug your fingertips into the muscles on his back.

“I know,” you agreed simply, bringing your mouth to his shoulder as you bit him lightly, the man breathily laughing at the action, turning toward you to meet your gaze.

“I don’t know how you’re home right now, but I’m so glad you are,” you told him softly, the man smiling happily.

“Me too,” he responded just as you clenched around him, nearing your high. “Grip me like that again and I’m not gonna last.”

“Good,” you grinned, the man chuckling as he kissed you again. Resting his forehead against your own, he squeezed his eyes shut as he continued rolling his hips against yours, your skin becoming dewey in the heat of the moment.

Jimin reveled in the feeling of your body underneath his own, your chest rubbing against his, your hips bumping against his own as you lifted them off the mattress in an attempt to have more of him. The man moved his hand down to your hip, holding you down with a smirk on his lips as your leg wrapped around his own, digging your heel into his thigh as you desperately chased your approaching high.

“So close,” you moaned, Jimin whining near your ear, his tone breathy, a bit of strain withheld in his vocal cords as he attempted to hold off on cumming just yet.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He asked, almost pleading for mercy, the words followed by a sexy whimper.

Pressing kisses against the side of his face in response, the man turned so his mouth fell on your own, the meeting messy, full of teeth and moans as he reached his high just before you.

It felt as though you were floating as Jimin kissed down your jaw, leaving wet marks across your neck. The man began trailing his lips across your shoulder and down your bicep just before you wrapped your arms around his head. Nuzzling his face against your chest, he closed his eyes, settling into the feeling of your frame, both of you breathless and content.

At some point, Jimin rolled off of you, both of you lying face to face on your sides. Sharing in the intimacy of being together, sweet kisses were passed back and forth, both of you relishing in the touches granted upon each other’s skin.

Few words were spoken between you, but rather you simply existed within each other’s presence. Eventually, you found yourselves cuddled up with Jimin behind you, spooning your nude body, his hand intertwined with your own in front of your chest.

His fingertips were toying with the metal band of your promise ring as your eyes locked on the identical jewelry positioned on his own finger.

This is home.

You weren’t sure when you and Jimin dozed off, nor how long it had been, but you could feel the rumbling of the man’s stomach when you awoke. He probably hadn’t eaten since very early that day. Jimin’s arm was still draped over your hip, his chest pressed snugly against your back. You were tempted to ignore the man’s hunger, as well as your own, and stay in his embrace for longer. But your desire to nurture him won out as you very carefully lifted his arm from your body, crawling away from him as quietly as you could as to not disturb his sleep.

Grabbing the sweatshirt he arrived home in, you slipped it over your head, fitting it onto your body before grabbing a pair of underwear from your dresser. Tiptoeing out of the room, you made your way to the kitchen to prepare food for the man sleeping in your bed.

You didn’t get very far into the cooking, however, before Jimin’s voice cut through the quiet of the apartment.

“You’re such a little clothing thief,” he playfully complained as he entered the kitchen where you were stood in front of the stove. Turning to face him, you were happy to find that his upper body was bare, his lower half covered with the same sweatpants as earlier, the clothing hugging his hips just right. Giggling, you open your arms for him, the man walking right into them, wrapping his own limbs around the back of your head as yours snaked around his waist.

“It smells like you,” you defended, the man smiling against your cheek just before pressing a kiss to the spot.

“What are you making?” He asked, peering around your body to see the boiling noodles.

“Just some ramen,” you told him, placing a kiss on his neck. “Thought you might wake up a little hungry.”

“Thank you,” he grinned, turning his head back to be face to face with you. The man nudged your nose with his own causing you to scrunch yours in response. “I’m starving,” he chuckled, a smile stretching across your own face.

“Yeah I know, you woke me up,” you teased, gesturing down to his belly, the man giggling just as you kissed him softly. “Can you grab some bowls?”

The man wordlessly answered by detaching himself from you, retrieving some bowls, along with utensils. He stood close by as you transferred the noodles to the bowls, trying to get away with placing more noodles into the bowl that you handed Jimin, only to be met with a knowing scoff. You both moved to the island where you seated yourselves, facing one another, your knees brushing his own, his hand taking solace on your bare thigh.

“How was tour?” You asked him excitedly just as he scooped some of his noodles from his bowl to your own, making a point to ensure you ate just as much as him. Rolling your eyes at the action, he smiled proudly. “And how the hell are you here right now?”

“Magic,” he teased, you sighing, Jimin giggling as he dropped his head toward his chest. Looking up at you with his stunning smile and warm eyes, he bit his bottom lip just slightly. “I just wanted to surprise you,” he told you. “We still have a couple shows in Japan next week, that was true,” he interjected in a playful, unnecessary defense. “So I’ll have to leave in a few days just for a week but-”

“Wait, you don’t have to film stuff this week?” You questioned, watching as Jimin shook his head.

“No, that was all an elaborate lie to surprise you,” he grinned, almost guiltily as you gasped.

“What the fuck?” You expressed your confusion. “Is everyone in on this then because Tae even said you guys are filming this week, and all the girls-”

“I told you it was elaborate,” he interrupted you.

“You’re insane,” you told him in shock. “Amazingly, wonderfully insane.”

Bringing his face to yours, pressing a series of kisses to your cheek, you couldn’t help but smile and let out a breathy laugh. “I just love you,” he defended his actions. “I am amazingly, wonderfully, insanely in love with you.”

“I’m really happy you’re here,” you told him sincerely.

“Me too, Dear,” he rested his forehead against yours. As a pout positioned itself on your lips, he pulled away from you to look at your expression. “What’s that face for?” He smiled affectionately.

Giggling at yourself, you shook your head. “Nothing, I just like you.”

The man’s smile widened even more as he looked to his bowl, scooping up a bunch of noodles and shoving them into his mouth. “The feeling is mutual,” he mumbled through his mouthful of food, you laughing wholeheartedly at him.

Sitting with Jimin, eating ramen, you could not be happier that he was home. He told you stories about tour that you had already heard through a screen, and you told him all about the happenings at your work that he had also already heard. And he acted as if your stories were as exciting as his own, or maybe he really found them to be as interesting.

It was easy and comfortable and you were both in bliss just simply being together. It had been months since you got to exist with him. And existing with him, well, that was your favorite thing about existing at all.

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needleandhammer · 3 years ago

Text

Prism

Pairing: Robert Pronge x Reader; featuring Jake Jensen

Warnings: 18+ only, dark fic, non-con touch, kidnapping, it's Freezy so yeah

Notes: Happy spooky season! I cannot believe the writers I am following have led me onto the Freezy Train 😳

For a year, you worked alongside Jake. He came through your office suite to set up new computers one morning. Designated the unofficial tech responder, you reached out to him often, asked questions politely and endlessly until he resigned himself to visiting your office multiple times per week. Somehow, the two of you ended up having lunch together as he listened to you grumble about coworkers adverse to seeking technological solutions on their own. Then going to happy hour together. Then texting each other; Jake followed your lead until the two of you could speak in memes and emojis.

Your friend abruptly left his job a few months ago. With no response to your text messages, you swallowed down the disappointment of losing touch with a friend when adulting kept your circle so small already. You only hoped he was okay.

Now, after a late night at the office, your coworker Carter lies unconscious in your peripheral. The person responsible for knocking out Carter stalks toward you. You’re scrambling around your desk trying to keep distance between him and you, this stranger with scraggly hair hanging over a pair of thick spectacles.

You’re so startled, mind trying to salvage some kind of escape plan that you haven’t even tried yelling for help. You hurl a solid glass paperweight at him. Air rushes up your throat – a scream working its way out when you see him dodge and strike forward at you. His hands circle your wrist, you’re yanked against him and a painful blow to the base of your neck sends you sinking into blackness.

---

You wake with a start. Where are you?

Your hands roam, grasping lightly across your body in search of any new injuries while you breathe past the lingering pain at the back of your head. At least it wasn’t bleeding. Assured that you were able to stand and move with relative ease, you’re on your feet and tiptoeing to the door of the bedroom. Your shoes are gone, dammit.

You swallow hard, breathing deep against grogginess and the aching pulse at the base of your skull. That fucker isn’t here so you need to act.

Go out that door.

Wait. You need something. A weapon. Anything.

A shaky breath forces your stark fear at bay as you look around the room. You make it to the open closet door.

A pink color halts you physically and mentally. Pink. You collapse to your knees and grasp at the cotton fabric. The word printed on the pink shirt triggers a breathless sob that you can’t control.

Petunias

Oh gods, did this deranged man kidnap Jake too? What can he possibly want with you and your friend? Is Jake in some kind of trouble? Questions bombard your mind, tangling into nothing that makes sense. Your head aches. Your limbs feel weak. Has it been long enough that your body has weakened from lack of nourishment?

Beneath another shirt, you discover a scraggly object. It’s chestnut colored, wavy strands that sends a creeping shivering down your spine. You quickly drop the Petunias t-shirt over it, as if to hide some vile creature from sight, and peer around the room again.

Damn it. No light décor or metal objects you can arm yourself with. You’ll have to be quick.

The door gives a creak when you swing it open, revealing a small galley kitchen.

Your heart skips – dread douses you – you freeze when you see the figure standing opposite you at the far end of this small building. He turns, arms falling from the curtained window, to look at you.

You reel backward; your hands reach and claw for something, anything that might help you in this horrible circumstance.

Right back where you started. You made it barely a foot out of your prison.

Your captor descends upon you. You shriek, push and shove against him but his weight follows you, presses you down on the bed.

His palm stifles your cries while he easily restrains you.

“Awake are we?”

You shake your head. You don’t want to hear his voice. You close your eyes. You don’t want to look at him – afraid that your eyes are deceiving you.

He tsks. “Don’t be a brat. We can make this part quick.”

Growling, you shake his hand away and snap at him. “What the fuck are you talking about? Let me go.”

He scoffs at the additional impolite names you call him.

Panting, you glare at him. “What do you want?”

“You gonna play nice?”

You try to headbutt him.

He sighs in irritation.

Your wrists are snuggly wrapped and tied to one bed post. You lean away from him as much as possible where you sit on a corner of the mattress, cutting him with a glare.

He still hasn’t answered you. That cold dread weighs down in your gut as you force another question out.

“What did you do to Jake?”

“Jake?” His smile grows.

“Don’t play with me! That’s his shirt. He – he has a family. His sister and niece, they’re…” Your words die on your lips as he starts laughing.

“Oh, sugar,” he says with a fond look your way. “Time to break the bad news to you. Your buddy Jake is…Well, you wanna take a guess?”

“You hurt him?”

The cold smile does not waver. You swallow down the lump in your throat. You already know the answer.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me hanging,” he purrs at you, waiting for your next guess.

You’re not ready to accept it, despite the tangible evidence in front of you. Despite the bright t-shirt lying in the closet. Covering the brunette wig. It can’t be true.

This man’s face, his nose, his lips. You feel like you’re going mad as you keep being pulled back to those blue eyes. The glasses are gone; you can see his full brows, the aquamarine of his irises. That laugh that sounded wrong, even though the tenor flows through you in familiar waves.

His hair is now a natural deep brown. It's shorter, lacking the gel that previously held it up in blonde spikes. The wig must have just been a precaution for when he showed up at your office. And his facial hair is grown out more evenly and that alone could have transformed the man you thought you knew.

He disappeared months ago.

You study his eyes – you know their exact color – and recognize the mirth glinting beneath dark lashes. But your heart starts racing when his signature crooked smile doesn’t appear. Instead, a hard smirk twists his face into a stranger.

“Jake…” Maybe you hope invoking his name as you know it will make this all go away - will make the world make sense again. Maybe you want to cling to an impossible salvation.

He scoffs softly, a quiet murmur of your name on his lips, almost remorseful. Almost.

“The name’s Robert.”

Gone is the awkward, clumsy colleague you had grown close to. The man you formed a slow companionship with during late office hours sharing fast food while ranting about administration or complaining about the local asshole that stood at the corner of your block shouting right-wing rhetoric to people trying to get to work.

Gone is Jake Jensen, the cute nerd you called friend.

Robert Pronge closes in, looms before you. His fingers skim your jawline before he grips your face tight, deliberate.

“I couldn’t leave you behind,” he says, dipping even closer so his lips graze your cheek. You grow stiff at the gentle affection. His grip loosens enough that you can drop your gaze.

“I…d-don’t know you.” You don’t know this man. “I don’t.”

Robert watches as you press your forehead to your hands. He supposes it’s normal - you haven’t arrived at acceptance of reality yet. Your frame clenches with stress, the physiological response to danger. Robert has witnessed this countless times with countless hits.

A breathy chuckle tickles your skin. He knew you well enough at this point. “You’re a smart one, sugar.”

“No, no, no…”

“And you know now that ole Jake Jensen. Never existed.”

Faced with this man’s remorseless confession, you steel yourself for the inevitable.

“Are you – are you going to kill me?” You raise your eyes. You'll look at this man's face one last time, you won't be deceived in your final moments.

That dark chuckle returns.

“You think I risked showing up in town just for a quick kill?"

He cages you in, enclosing you between arms thick with muscle.

"No, sugar. Wouldn’t wanna waste a sweet thing like you.”

His mouth is on yours and for several seconds, the heated, hungry pressure stuns you. Confuses you. You squawk at the sensation of him probing for a deeper taste, and start twisting out of his hold.

Strong fingers tighten in your hair and make you whimper in pain, stilling enough for his tongue to delve into your mouth.

A quiet moan of satisfaction rumbles through Robert when he accesses the hot taste of you for the first time.

Robert decided long ago. Once his mask is peeled back – that blonde, chirpy mask – he’s taking you as his. And he’ll make sure you get to know the real him intimately.

------------------------------------------

A/N: Hurrah! I have been wanting to write a Jekyll and Hyde inspired fic for a while. Tis the season and all, so I present to you all: "Jensen and Pronge." muahahaha. I am trying to plan this out as a multipart fic. 😏 I'm gonna try to make this soft!dark bc that's the kind of shit I'm into.

#robert pronge x reader #dark!fic #non con #tw noncon

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starlessea · 4 years ago

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Here Comes the Sun: XI. Time is Running Out (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 7954

Chapter Warnings: Language, Implied trauma, Violence and injury.

You were running. Every corridor connected into another one, each less familiar than the last. The muffled groans and sluggish footsteps got louder with every passing minute, as you felt yourself lose energy. You slammed another door open and ran down the next dark hallway, squinting as the lights flickered dimly to illuminate the dead.

Eventually, you reached a set of double doors and flew through them, not stopping to look back. Your lungs burned as you panted, and your legs felt unstable under you. Quickly, you turned the corner, only to see the dead end it concealed. Your knees buckled beneath you as you let out a sob, hands trembling uncontrollably. The undead closed in on you, swarming the doors and creeping through the crack one by one.

You pressed your back against the wall, scurrying to crawl away as you watched them approach. It was then that you spotted the first walker break through, trudging forward with its legs dragging behind. It was a man. It had been a man. It was tall and large, with a build nearly double your size. Despite the pale greyness of its eyes, you swore that its gaze leered over you in a way that made your skin crawl.

It gurgled as it got closer, blackish blood coming up from its mouth and splattering the floor by your feet. You noticed the wound on its chest, like a gunshot, that oozed each time it took a step. It got closer, reaching out a grubby hand and gripping onto the collar of your vest. You let out a scream as its snapping jaws hovered above your face, almost as if trying to say something. Yet, all that came out was watery groans as the blood spattered onto you. Despite it being dead, you almost felt its breath over your cheek before it lunged.

You bolted upright in your sleeping bag, bringing a hand to your face and neck to check the skin there. Heaving, your chest swelled as you gasped for breath, and your ribcage felt like it might burst open from the force. You whipped your head around, taking in the surroundings of your tent. The yellow canvas walls remained the same as they always were, and your polaroid string hung above you like a faulty dreamcatcher.

As you tried to regulate your breathing, you wiped your forehead and the back of your neck, trying to soak up some of the sweat that had formed there. It was the same nightmares as usual. You'd been having them for a few days following the incident at the bar - especially since Randall still remained in the Greenes' barn, not even a few minutes walk from where you slept.

The light stung your eyes and you rubbed the corners of them forcefully. Your sleep was usually disrupted, and you'd wake up periodically in the nights - so you often slept in now as a result. You hadn't told anyone about it, but you didn't have to. Daryl had noticed. The two of you had become closer after the incident, with him looking out for you a lot more than he usually did. He made sure that you didn't go anywhere near the barn, and had a lot to say when Rick decided on sparing the boy held prisoner within it.

In truth, Daryl had been your comfort these last couple of days. On the nights where you woke up in tears, drenched in your own sweat, he'd be conveniently sat near the firepit when you came outside to get some air. He'd say that he was keeping watch, but wouldn't go back to bed when you offered to take over - always waiting until you left, first. Even in the daytime, after you'd come around following a bitter cup of coffee, he wouldn't push you away if you wrapped yourself around his shoulders or grabbed his hand excitedly to show him something.

Sometimes, he'd even let you crawl into his tent when you wanted to ramble, listening for a while before his patience met its limit and he kicked you out. Still, you weren't sure what you'd have done without him. The sight of that shy smile of his, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes when he thought no one was looking - that was enough to keep you going when you had your doubts. Before you knew it, you realised that you would give anything to hear one of his shallow laughs, even if it meant making a fool out of yourself to pay for it.

Once you had settled down a bit, you pulled on a pair of jeans over your legs, to go with the button-up shirt you had slept in. Your curly hair was matted from the sweat, so you tied it up and away from your face rather than even attempting to comb out the knots. You were sure that you looked a bit of a state, but you didn't give it a second thought as you unzipped the yellow submarine and stood out into the morning air.

It had started getting a little colder, the dew collecting on the grass and forming little droplets that wet the toes or your boots. There was a slight chill in the air, where the breeze had picked up, but it wasn't quite cold yet. Still, you huddled the material of the shirt closer to your body and folded your arms, looking at the archer who sat a few feet over from you.

He glanced up for a second and gave you a curt nod, drawing his eyes away from what he was doing.

"You look like hell." He noted, not even looking at you as he said it.

Daryl sat on one of the tree stumps near the fire pit, head hanging down to focus on his hands. He had a rusted pocket knife in his palm, and was using it to sharpen one of the arrows he was making. You'd seen him do it before, watching mesmerised as he worked with the efficiency of a master craftsman. His hair seemed to be getting longer, compared to when you had first met him, and now draped a little in front of his eyes when he looked down. A few nights ago you'd teased him and asked if he was growing a mullet, but in reality you rather liked it.

You shot him a wide grin, dusting off your jeans as you took a seat beside him, ruffling his hair between your fingers in greeting.

"Then you must be heaven, angel." You winked, hoping that the teasing would distract from the grogginess of your voice. "Good morning." You added, seeing him shake his head at you.

He didn't grumble nearly as much at your jokes anymore. Sometimes, he'd even make some back. You enjoyed the playful banter, and the way it made your heart race when he let out the occasional deep laugh at you.

"You still wearin' that?" He asked, not even looking up.

You realised that he was referring to your button-up flannel shirt - the one he had given you. Most nights you slept in it, but you avoided wearing it in the daytime in case people noticed who it originally belonged to. In your half-awake state you must have forgotten to change out of it.

"Problem?" You quipped back too quickly, and you saw him roll his eyes at your defensiveness. "You said I could keep it." You reasoned.

Daryl hummed in response, blowing the wood shavings away from the stick he'd been carving.

"Looks like a dress on ya." He drawled, finally shooting you a sidewards glance and raising an eyebrow as he did so.

You beamed a smile at him, running your fingers over the material that draped down almost to your knees, and remembering how it had looked on him.

"And?" You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's comfy." You explained, before asking why he minded so much.

He ignored you, continuing to shave down the arrow in his hands carefully. You didn't relent, standing up so that you were directly in front of him, and giving a small twirl to show off the shirt.

"Are you missing it?" You teased, trying to prompt him to look up. "Do you want it back?" You poked, walking around the log he was sitting on so that you were behind him while he worked.

Daryl let out a small sigh at your antics, putting down the blade and resting the arrow beside him. You didn't give him time to turn around and scold you, slipping your arms over his shoulders and around him before he could. Your chin rested just above the crook of his neck, and you could feel the wisps of his hair tickling at your cheek.

"What would you do for it?"

You'd wanted to joke with him, but it came out like more of a shy whisper as you lost your nerve. Your cheeks were nearly pressed together and you could feel the heat radiate off his skin. His heartbeat was quick beneath your palms where they rested, clasped over his chest. It felt like you had handfuls of butterflies, fluttering nervously there. You suddenly felt your own pulse pick up, as your playfulness started to seem a lot less innocent than it had only a few moments ago.

Someone cleared their throat from behind you, and you instantly flung yourself back from the man in shock. It was clumsy, and you'd almost taken the archer with you as you slipped on the damp grass beneath your feet. Daryl shot you a glare after he had recovered, grumbling about how you'd almost choked him.

You heard a chuckle and turned to see Glenn watching the exchange, his baseball cap in his hands. Quickly, you fumbled out an apology which sounded more like an excuse, explaining how he'd startled you. He shook his head before giving your shoulder a squeeze.

"Sorry to interrupt." He started, looking between you and Daryl. The other man stayed silent, going back to his work like he'd never taken a break from it. "Could I borrow you for a minute?" Glenn continued, gesturing to you.

You raised an eyebrow at him before he explained. "I'm doing some work on the RV with Dale. We could use some help and everyone else is busy."

You looked over at Daryl, and then back at Glenn, before agreeing. You gave the man a small wave as you said goodbye, not really sure of how to act around him now. You didn't know whether it was what you had done that made you shy, or the fact that Glenn had caught you doing it. In truth, you hadn't really planned for anything to happen, but you got caught up in the moment without realising it. You tried not to think about what could have played out if Glenn hadn't showed up.

Daryl gave you a quick nod as you left, and you and Glenn started walking towards the RV. In the distance, you could see Dale lounging on the roof of the vehicle, under his parasol like usual. He had his binoculars in his hands and gave the pair of you a wave when he saw you together.

"So," Glenn dragged, catching your attention, "what was that?"

"What was what?" You bit back, feigning ignorance.

The man didn't buy it, knowing you better than your cheap lies by now.

"You know what." He said, with an air of certainty about him. "You and Daryl, just now."

You stayed silent, not wanting to give anything away. In all honesty, you weren't sure yourself about what had happened back there, and didn't really know how to answer. If you were being truthful, you definitely felt something for the man. You had done for a while. Daryl, on the other hand, you weren't sure about. How long had it taken him just to be accepting of your touch, and not shy away from your hugs? How many hours had the two of you spent together before he stopped looking at you with distrust, or flinching away if you moved too suddenly. At this point, you were content with what the two of you had. Or, you tried to convince yourself that you were.

"I saw that whole thing back there." Glenn carried on, catching you lost in your own thoughts.

"Yeah?" You questioned, giving him a side-eye glance as you smirked. "Well I see you and Maggie sneaking off to the stables at night, but you don't hear me saying anything about it."

Glenn inhaled sharply beside you, seeming to choke on whatever reply he had planned. You let out a snort at his expression, and clapped your hand over his back as the two of you reached the RV.

"Choose your battles carefully, Rhee." You warned him teasingly, watching as he squirmed under your touch.

"Yes, Ma'am."

The three of you worked together on the RV for a while before taking a short break. It was mostly Dale instructing you to pass him tools and run to ask Hershel if he had the things you were missing. You were pretty clueless when it came to any kind of vehicle, so you tried to absorb as much as you could, mentally matching the names with all of the parts that Dale showed you. Glenn seemed to know much more, having spent a lot of time with the older man during the day. Surprisingly, you all got along really well and even cracked some jokes as you scrambled to remember which screwdriver head was which.

Glenn eventually excused himself to go and help T-Dog out with something, and Dale left you 'in charge' of the toolbox, as he put it, as he left to go with him. You hadn't been there long, sitting on the steps of the trailer in a daze by yourself, before Maggie had come out of the farmhouse with a pitcher of lemonade for you all. She sat down next to you, offering you a glass. You took a gulp, feeling the coolness run down the back of your throat as the ice cubes hit your teeth. It was really refreshing.

"Glenn told me about you and Daryl this mornin'." She looked over at you with a grin.

You rolled your eyes at her, wondering when the man had even had time to say anything. He'd only gone into the farmhouse for all of five minutes to use the bathroom, before you all had started work on the RV. That boy never ceased to amaze you with his ability to run his mouth. You already felt exasperated by all of the questioning, and you hadn't even begun to start answering your own yet.

"There's nothing to tell." You corrected, but her smile didn't let up. "I already warned your boyfriend to worry about his own dirt, instead of trying to dig up other people's."

You shot her a look that you thought would tell her to drop it, but she didn't take the hint. Or, she didn't care to, more accurately.

"He thinks you're sleepin' together." She said matter of factly, taking a sip of her own lemonade nonchalantly and ignoring your expression.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, totally not expecting those words to come out of the mouth of a farmer's daughter. Then again, you knew what she and Glenn got up to when they thought nobody else was around.

"Maggie!" You gasped, slapping her shoulder.

The lemonade spilt out of the top of her glass slightly, and splashed onto her jeans.

"What? I didn't say it." She frowned at you, wiping the stain. "Can you blame him?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow in your direction.

You usually felt like you could talk to Maggie about anything, and rarely got embarrassed at any of the details she shared with you, either. Yet, you couldn't help but feel a bit dumbstruck at the allegation. The thought of you and Daryl - sweet and shy Daryl Dixon - sleeping together had just tipped you over the edge like lemonade in a glass.

Maggie went on, ignoring your stunned silence. "The two of you got ya tents away from the rest of your group, and hang around each other most of the goddamn day." She pointed out, nodding her head in the direction of your camp in the distance.

"That's not fair." You pouted. "He's my friend, and I spend the same amount of time with you and Beth as I do him." You defended, but she crossed her arms and gave you a once over - making an obvious point of looking you up and down.

"You're wearing his shirt." She said flatly, glancing at it like she'd been waiting to bring up the observation for a while now.

"And some days I wear yours!" You retorted, raising your voice in desperation.

You stood up from the step, and Maggie laughed at how flustered she'd made you.

Before she could add anymore, you spotted Glenn walking back to the RV with a dumb smile on his face, totally oblivious of the chaos he'd caused. You shot him a glare, causing Maggie to look over in his direction.

"Glenn Rhee, get your ass over here now!" You yelled at him, and watched as his face fell.

He looked over at Maggie, who just shrugged her shoulders and collected the empty glasses. She gave Glenn a quick peck on the cheek before whispering something about him being on his own, before leaving to return to the farmhouse.

"Ah shit." He muttered below his breath, looking over at you with a sheepish smile.

You stayed by the RV well into the evening, after chewing out Glenn and sending him on his way. You'd offered to put all of the tools back since Dale wanted to go out for a walk and check on the fences around the area. He gave you a warm smile as he left, offering you a 'thanks, kid' that reminded you of your own grandfather. You didn't even try to argue back with him that you were in your twenties, just sending a smile his way in return.

It was already dark outside, since the seasons were changing and making the world seem more shadowy at earlier and earlier hours each day. You had borrowed a jacket from Beth the last time she came out, handing you a sandwich in place of the dinner you'd skipped. The air was chilly and you were grateful for the extra layer protecting you against the cool night's kiss. The breeze rustled the leaves and made a few flutter down to the ground, next to your feet.

It was peaceful, and you could see the warm light flicker through the windows of the Greene farmhouse. The rest of the group were out doing perimeter checks and mending some of the fences, so it was just you standing as the sole guard of a rundown RV. Once you had finished organising the array of screwdrivers back into their meticulous places, just as Dale had instructed, you closed the toolbox and secured it shut by the latch.

You sat back onto the step, rolling your stiff shoulders and wishing that Daryl was here to give you one of his Spartan massages that hurt so bad but felt so good. You scarcely had time to relax before a scream had you bolting upright and alert. It was in the distance, you could tell, but it was definitely a scream.

Immediately, you rushed inside the RV to retrieve one of the pistols from the gun bag there, before setting off running in the direction of the yells. It didn't take you long to notice the group that had gathered near the end fence of one of the fields, close to the woods. You kept your pistol lowered in your hand as you jogged towards them, still not able to make out what they were all crowded over.

As you got closer, you saw how Lori was shielding Carl from the scene and prepared yourself for whatever you were about to witness. It didn't take long before it came into view, the sight of Dale on the ground and the dispatched walker beside him. It was horrifically graphic. The man you'd been joking with not even an hour before now laid there with his entire chest cavity exposed. It was so violent that you weren't able to tear your eyes away as he gurgled the familiar sound of death from his throat, like the one you heard in your nightmares.

It looked as though his ribs had been pried open and you could only watch as the older man suffered. His eyes met yours, pupils wide and dilated as he tried to speak. You stared back helplessly before someone stood in front of you, blocking your view. The printed angel wings told you who it was before you even looked up.

You watched the ground as you heard the familiar cocking of a pistol, and your eyes rested on the fishing hat that had fallen a few feet away. Images flashed through your mind of Dale wearing it, and him putting it on Carl's head occasionally to swap it out with his sheriff's one. You kept your gaze on it, lying abandoned in the grass, as Daryl spoke to the man.

"Sorry, brother." He said, and pulled the trigger.

That night you returned to your tent alone, trailing slowly behind the others, and thought about that hat and the man who wore it. Glenn had picked it up and taken it with Rick and Shane, as they went to dig a grave for Dale. You kept thinking back to a few days ago, and how you'd all sat around the fire of the main camp, spread out on the deckchairs one night. Even Daryl had joined you, as you had bribed everyone to endure your company with the promise of Jack Daniels.

You brought the bottle with you in your satchel, taking a seat by the fire pit next to Dale, who shook his head when you took it out. You offered him a small smile and shrugged, telling him that you'd come across it whilst scavenging with Glenn and Maggie. As the others arrived, you poured some shots to whoever wanted any, and made them swear not to tell Hershel.

The night had been a small dose of escapism washed down with whiskey. There wasn't enough for you all to get completely drunk, but the tipsiness definitely settled in and got you all loosened up and giggling. At some point, Glenn had devised a game that resembled 'never have I ever,' but even got the people who weren't drinking involved.

Much to Dale's dismay, the slightly buzzed man had pulled the hat from his head and stated that whoever wore it had to answer one question completely truthfully. The fishing cap then made its way around the circle, as you listened to Shane talk about stealing a car, T-Dog's videogame collection, and how Carol had once put laxatives in Ed's coffee.

"You're kidding!" Andrea yelled in disbelief, when it was finally your turn. "There's no way you have a tattoo."

"I do." You smiled, taking a sip of your drink and feeling it numb the back of your throat. "And no, I'm not showing it to you." You winked at her, causing the group to laugh.

"It's in a risky spot, ain't it?" Shane teased, looking over his glass at you with a cheeky grin.

"No!" You shouted at him, which gained even more laughter from the onlookers.

Shane shook his head at you with a smile. "Yeah, whatever you say."

Lori piped up from where she sat. She wasn't drinking, now that she was pregnant, but she seemed content enough from the atmosphere.

"I can't believe you have one." She spoke, looking you up and down slightly as if trying to guess where it was. "I never pictured you the type."

You snorted at her words. "What? Just because I was a teacher for a short while?" You teased, crossing your arms.

People usually made the same assumptions about you, even before the world had ended. You had an education from a prestigious university, bright eyes and that naive look. It was only natural that most people didn't consider you as the type to hang around at rock concerts with your father or work part-time shifts at the bars he played at when they were understaffed.

"I have fifteen piercings, too." You added, feeling generous with your information.

Rick shook his head at you with doubt, and you found it refreshing to see the sheriff look so relaxed.

"What? Where?" He questioned, squinting his eyes at you. "How come we haven't seen them?"

"Because I keep my hair down most of the time." You explained, before tucking the strands behind your ears to reveal them.

A few members of the group came over to get a closer look, and you grinned like an excited puppy, showing off the metal jewelry to them.

"And I have my belly button done." You added, pointing to your stomach but not lifting your vest to show them.

T-Dog watched you with suspicion across the campfire, as if he couldn't entirely figure you out. His eyes were narrowed and you shot him your best grin as he stared you down half-heartedly.

"None of this fits my image of you." He admitted, and a few people agreed.

You shrugged your shoulders, pouring yourself another shot and not caring whether or not you should slow down. You felt better than you had in a long time. Even though your head felt a little fuzzy and your throat burned each time you knocked your glass back, you couldn't put a price on the laughter you all shared and the memories each of you recalled.

"What do you want me to say?" You asked sarcastically. "Pretend that I spent most of my time at libraries and not gigs, listening to Led Zeppelin?"

You heard a low chuckle beside you, as Daryl took the bottle from your hand and poured some more into his own glass.

"Thought you said you were borin'." He drawled, his accent even thicker from the whiskey.

"I am now!" You said loudly, throwing your hands up in defeat.

The others laughed a bit at that, before you went on, prying at the other man who had refused the hat of truth when it came his way. You'd tried to force it on that stubborn head of his, but had only succeeded in spilling one of the glasses and getting a scolding from Lori.

"What about you, Dixon." You eyed him where he sat. "I can't even imagine you existing before all of this." You admitted.

He raised an eyebrow at you, but you continued. "It's like you were built to survive an apocalypse."

You saw the others nod in agreement, staying silent to listen for the man's response. A few of them had seemed surprised that Daryl was even participating, and now looked even more confused at how the two of you interacted with each other.

"What d'you mean?" He asked, taking a swig from his glass.

You smiled to yourself before answering. "I don't know." You confessed, before addressing the rest of the group. "Can the rest of you picture Daryl Dixon mundanely watching TV, and eating pizza instead of squirrel?"

That joke got a lot of approval from them, as you saw Carol let out a snort in the corner of your eye, holding onto her own small drink with both hands.

"Shut up." Daryl grumbled in response, but you saw the slight smile that lingered on his face.

After that, you had placed Dale's hat back on the older man's head and gave him a hug before turning in for the night. You felt giddy from alcohol and good company, and had squeezed him tightly before telling him that no one else suited that old, raggedy fishing cap as much as he did.

The next morning after Dale's death was hard, but you'd all had practice in dealing with death by now. The funeral was carried out quickly, and Rick made a speech about how the group needed to honour Dale by being more in sync with their decisions - referring especially to Randall. You all then gave a few words, and said your goodbyes. Glenn had made a small wooden cross as a marker for his grave, and hung the fishing cap on top of it at the end of the informal ceremony.

After that, the Greenes had tried to distract you all by telling you to pack your things up and prepare to move into their farmhouse for winter. Given that they'd become a lot closer to you all in the last few weeks, and that Lori was now pregnant, they said that it was only reasonable. It would be a bit of squeeze to fit you all in, they admitted, but it would be better than freezing outside in flimsy tents exposed to the elements.

So, there you were, collecting your belongings and putting them into your worn satchel with care. You didn't have much, save for your polaroids, some clothes and your knife. The only things you had left to pack down were your sleeping bag and your yellow submarine, so you decided to go and check how Daryl was doing before you continued.

The two of you hadn't had much time to talk about the events of last night, barely exchanging a few glances and letting your palms brush against each other during the funeral. He'd gone through a lot in the last couple days, being left with the dirty work of torturing Randall and having to shoot Dale. Even if he seemed alright, you thought that he probably held some guilt for what had happened. You knew that you certainly did. You spent the night wondering why you hadn't gone with the older man, wishing that you'd gotten there sooner.

You clambered out of your tent with your satchel strapped over your chest, before walking a few steps over to Daryl's. His tent was unzipped, and you poked your head around the entrance to see him crouched inside, collecting his arrows and the few possessions he had scattered around. You watched him in silence for a moment, as if trying to find any sign of distress before he noticed you.

"Don' worry yourself, Sunshine." The man grumbled, sensing you.

He didn't even look up from what he was doing, which made you jump in surprise at having been caught.

"Jus' go pack down yer own tent." He instructed, folding up a pile of his clothes and stuffing them into a backpack.

"Sunshine?" You questioned, wondering whether or not the nickname was sarcastic, as you continued to watch him with suspicion.

You crouched down in the entryway, debating whether or not to go in.

"Look, Daryl-" you started gently, but he cut you off midway.

"'M fine." He said sternly. "Don't need no therapy session every time one of us kills someone."

You let out a sigh, deciding to go inside. You crawled your way past him, making yourself comfortable on top of his sleeping bag while he worked around you.

"I don't know about you, but I'm not planning on making it a habit." You admitted gently, seeing him stop what he was doing and look over at you.

"Ain't about what ya want. It's about survivin'." He corrected gruffly, his eyes meeting yours.

You gave him a sad smile before responding. "I know. But I don't want to live like that." You said. "There's a difference."

He shook his head, sitting back so that he was opposite you.

"Ain't no difference when yer dead." He muttered, and you could make out the slight flicker of pain behind his eyes.

You looked down to your hands, gathering your thoughts. You weren't sure whether you wanted to make yourself vulnerable to man by telling him your true feelings on the matter, but you felt like you needed to. You owed him that much.

"When I was out there alone, before I found you that day-" you started, recalling the days that seemed like a lifetime ago to you now. "That was surviving."

The man listened to you silently, his stare heavy as he took you in.

"At first, I was just grateful to be alive." You admitted, feeling ashamed to say the words out loud. "My camp, they were the brave ones."

You saw as Daryl started to shake his head to disagree, but you didn't let him interrupt.

"I just ran away and hid." You confessed, voice small as you said it. "After that I realised how unfair it all was."

Daryl stayed silent for a few seconds, before responding.

"What was unfair?" He asked, his words gravelly.

You met his eyes, already feeling like you'd revealed too much to him.

"How us cowardly would always be the last ones standing." You said softly, looking back down at your hands and thinking of all the people they failed to protect.

This time, Daryl responded quickly, moving closer to you so that you heard his words clearly.

"Ya ain't no coward." He spoke, his face near yours as he tried to catch your gaze.

You met it, fighting the urge to look away as the intensity made you want to tremble.

"You're a force, Teach." He told you, like it was a fact.

He stared at you for a few seconds, as though waiting for you to accept it.

You nodded at him eventually, letting out a small sigh as you realised that you'd been holding your breath.

"I don't want to just survive anymore, Daryl." You told him. "I want to live. I want a life that I'm okay with fighting to protect." You continued, feeling your voice grow stronger with each passing second.

Daryl remained still where he sat, giving you his entire attention.

"I know you hear me at night." You confessed, thinking back on the times you'd woken up yelling at invisible figures, or panting to try and catch your breath.

You caught his eyes flicker, as he fidgeted a bit and stretched out his legs.

"You pretend like you don't, but I know you do." You went on. "When I wake up from a bad dream you've always got your lantern lit, or sometimes you'll get up just to toss a log on the fire, and make an excuse that you can't sleep."

You smiled to yourself as you watched him feign ignorance, as though he needed to keep up an act you both knew had broken. No matter the type of man Daryl Dixon pretended to be, you saw straight through him.

"I'm at a point where I don't regret it anymore." You continued, not really sure where you were going with your speech. "Killing those men." You clarified, seeing him tense as you did so.

"I know it makes me sound like a monster, but I'd rather let the nightmares haunt me if it means that my family won't."

You took a deep breath, wondering if you should carry on to the point where there was no turning back.

"If it means that I can sit here now, with you, and be thankful that I was the one who managed to pull the trigger first." You finished, afraid to look up and meet his eyes.

You felt entirely exposed to him, as you sat there on the scratchy material of his sleeping bag, running your hands over it for comfort.

"Is this it?" He asked after a few seconds.

"What?" You replied, watching as he shuffled about in front of you.

"Is this the life you want?" He muttered, his voice coming out strained.

You nodded your head. "It can be." You told him. "It is." You reiterated, more certain this time.

You felt like all of your thoughts and worries were spilling out before you, like tipped ink spreading over paper. You couldn't stop yourself from telling the man everything.

"We've lost people," you acknowledged, not missing the way he frowned as you said it, "Dale and Sofia." You continued. "We'll probably lose more."

"But, call me delusional, I still have hope." You said with a smile, wondering if you truly were fooling yourself.

Daryl seemed to think so too, furrowing his eyebrows at you.

"What're ya hopin' for?" He asked.

"I don't know." You answered.

"Some days it's for a cure to be found." You said, wistfully. "Others it's that we can all live peacefully on this farm until we grow old. Sometimes, I just want to find a matching pair of socks in my laundry." You finished with a slight chuckle.

"And recently, I've been hoping that it rains." You added, hoping that he wouldn't laugh at that one in particular.

He didn't, instead glancing out of the tent, towards the clouds gathered above it.

"Give it a couple days." He mumbled, and you didn't doubt him for a second.

"Yeah, I hope so." You responded, looking up at the sky, too.

You sat in his company for a bit longer as he resumed his packing like nothing had happened. He didn't seem to have much, either, but you still watched curiously as he went through it. After a short while you noticed him pick up a glossy magazine, and put it in one of the bags. You instantly recognised it as the one you'd given him before, from the gas station, about motorcycles. You were surprised that he'd kept it, since it had been a few weeks since then.

"Did you read it?" You questioned, before you even realised you had said it.

"Yeah." Daryl responded, matter of factly.

"And?" You pried, stretching out your legs to laze back further on his sleeping bag. "Got any tips for me?"

He scoffed at that, shooting you a glance as he zipped up the bag. "Don' fall off."

You rolled your eyes at him, before deciding to tease him back a little.

"Mark my words, Dixon." You pointed at him. "One day I'll be the one riding that thing and you'll be clinging onto me."

He didn't bite to it, sitting back down opposite you with a smug look on his face.

"You tryna give me nightmares now?"

When he finished, you reached for your satchel lying next to you, remembering one of the reasons you had come to see the man in the first place. You pulled out his flannel shirt from it, which you'd neatly folded earlier on, and offered it out to him.

"I was thinking that I should probably return this to you." You explained, as he gave you a confused look.

"Thought ya was gonna use it to bribe somethin' outta me." He quipped, snarkily.

You nodded at him, rubbing your thumb over the material.

"Yeah, I thought about it." You admitted. "But then I realised that we were all going to be staying in the Greenes' living room together from tonight. Practically on top of each other."

Daryl stared down at the shirt in your hands, but didn't take it from you. Instead, he leant back on his knuckles, as if moving even further away from it

"What's that have to do with 'nything?" He asked, and you wondered whether you were prepared to answer truthfully.

You thought back on the game you'd all played with Dale's fishing hat and wished that you were wearing it now, to be able to muster up some false courage.

"Well," you started, swallowing thickly, "then you'd realise that I sleep in it every night." You confessed, noticing how his expression changed a little. "And that would be embarrassing."

Suddenly, the silence started to seem stifling to you as you played with your hands in your lap, looking down at them. You felt your stomach flip as you awaited his response, but it never came. Instead of waiting any longer, you decided to get out of there before facing inevitable rejection. You cleared your throat and started packing up your satchel in a hurry.

"Anyway, I should go." You excused, trying not to appear flustered. "Got to haul anchor on the yellow submarine."

You picked up his shirt once again and held it out to him, looking over with pleading eyes and praying that he'd just take it so you could leave.

He didn't, shaking his head again at the gesture.

"Nah, it's yours." He said gruffly. "I don' care what ya do with it."

You spoke up, wondering if you were really willing to fight with this man over a shirt.

"You might not, but I'm sure the others would have something to say about it." You explained, thinking about how Maggie had picked up on it straight away when you'd worn it by accident the day before.

"Here." You said more sternly, placing it into his lap. "Back with its rightful owner."

Daryl took it from his lap and placed it beside him, as he fumbled around in his jean pocket and pulled out his zippo from it. He flicked it open with his thumb and you watched as the blue flame jumped up, before he closed it again.

"Got enough gifts from ya." He said, gesturing to the lighter before looking over to the backpack where he'd put the magazine earlier.

He then pointed to the shirt, laid out in the space between you like a bargaining chip. "What were ya wantin' for it?"

You realised that he was referring to what you had said earlier, before Glenn had interrupted, and recalled how dangerously close the two of you had been.

"Nothing." You choked out, but it sounded forced. "I was just teasing."

"Ya weren't." Daryl said with certainty, and you felt your resolve crumbling.

"You're right." You replied.

Your eyes flickered over the man sitting in front of you, at his skin that was glazed by the sun and how much time he spent outdoors recently, and at his pale, steely blue eyes that watched you, watching him. He seemed just as nervous as you were, as if waiting for something to happen - for either of you to make a move. Yet, Daryl Dixon was shy. He was a sweet man bundled up in layers of trust issues and insecurity, which sometimes reared their heads as anger and frustration.

You saw beneath that. You saw the way he looked out for the group, and how he was hurt more deeply than any of the others at the loss of one of them. You noticed how he'd be up earlier than anyone else, making sure it was safe, and then how he'd go to bed the latest, too. At the same time, you were almost certain that this wasn't the same man you hauled from the creek that day. He looked the same, give or take a few scars and want of a haircut, but he was different. You could tell how much he'd grown in just a short space of time. He was a good man before, even if people were often fooled by his abrasive exterior, but he was an even better one now.

You gave him a warm smile, and felt a lot calmer than you had done in a while. You knew it was now or never, and accepted that you were, in fact, willing to risk it all for Daryl Dixon.

"There's one more thing I've been hoping for, as of late." You admitted, moving from his sleeping bag to crawl over to where he sat.

He stayed still, watching with a shy look, glancing over you as you approached with caution. As you got closer to him, so close that you could almost feel the weight of his eyes lingering on you, you picked up the discarded shirt and showed it to him.

He looked down at it in your hands before meeting your eyes again. You let your gaze flicker over his face, taking in his shy expression, before settling on his lips. This is what you wanted in return for his shirt, and you needed him to realise that.

You noticed how nervous he looked, and how he seemed to hold his breath at the proximity you shared. You rested one of your hands over his, feeling how warm it was beneath your own, before asking him your question.

"Are you sure you still want it back?" You flicked your eyes to the shirt and back at him, making sure he understood what you meant.

His gaze rested on you for a few seconds, as you felt your breath catch in your throat waiting for his response. He nodded.

You smiled back, raising your other hand to cup his cheek gently, stroking over it with your thumb as you felt a wave of affection run through you for the man under your fingertips. They almost trembled against him, as you felt a mixture of nerves and pure, simple emotion swell to the surface. Though, you felt his hand squeeze your other one, where you held it, and relaxed into his touch that reassured you.

You closed your eyes and closed the remaining distance between you both, placing a chaste kiss on his lips that made you feel a lot more than you'd expected it to. He was warm, and sweet, and trembling slightly. It made you smile into the kiss, and press more firmly against his cheek to remind him you were there. Even though it was obvious that you were there, kissing him, you needed him to know that you felt the same as he did.

You pulled away slowly, trying not to push for more. Your hand left his face and rested back at your side, suddenly feeling empty. The silence was loud, but it was comfortable. Your ears weren't ringing as they usually did. Instead, you focused on the soft sounds of Daryl's breathing, and watched as his eyes flickered over you and down to your own lips with want, as you had done to his. Though, he didn't seem quite confident enough in himself to act on it, and remained still.

Your heart beat quickly in your chest from the adrenaline, and you decided not to tempt things any further with him, either. He didn't say a word for a few seconds, but you didn't feel any sign of rejection. You moved away from him a little, allowing him his space, before picking up his shirt for the final time and pressing it into his chest lightly.

"Now it's yours again." You offered him a warm smile, which you felt was perhaps too big for your face. He took it from you.

You found it hard to conceal what you were feeling, but the look in his eyes told you that he didn't mind all that much. You sat in wordless wonder for a few minutes, considering what to say or do next. The sky had darkened a little as the clouds blocked the sunlight, and you felt the breeze pick up as your exposed skin prickled at the chill.

Then, you heard footsteps as someone approached the tent in a run. You whipped your head over to see Rick appear, ducking his head through the entryway and looking at the both of you with wide eyes.

"I need you to come with me, now." He instructed. "Randall's escaped."

A/N ahhhhhhh. AHHHH. I was SO excited to write this chapter, I cannot even tell you. This is merely the BEGINNING - the first flicker of this SLOW BURN! Just you wait until that confession... I have big things planned ;)

As usual, drop me a message to be included in the tags list!

Tag List:

@xxboesefrauxx @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @teel-dinosaur @greenbeansarelit @bunnymother93 @alularae3 @death-becomes-her @royaleclown @alex-sulli

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tooweirdforyou · 4 years ago

Text

The OP Boys & Their Personal Dirty Secrets pt. 2

A/N : Hey hun! I hope you like this! ( i can’t tag you idk why ) I saw you wanted a part two to this and decided to do it because it was fun. I guess, lol. anyways hope you like this! :>

Soooo, don’t judge the gif I couldn’t find anything else. Also I’m kinda tired ;-; alsooo. these ones are a LITTLE bit dirtier.

Warning : NSFW AHEAD! PROCEED WITH CAUTION! ⚠️ ESPECIALLY W/ THATCH.

kid and mihawk don’t have specific dark secrets since I couldn’t think of anything that would yk connect to them. ;-;

Summary : All of these boys and their personal, hidden dirty secrets. PART TWO!

Doflamingo

Oh boy, this male, despite his possessiveness, has a bit of a voyeurism kink. He hasn’t yet, but he DEFINITELY wants to turn on the country wide announcement, ( like those screens whatever used in Dressrosa when he talked ) and just fuck you as everyone watches throughout the island. He dreams of it, and one day, HE WILL make it a reality.

“How does it feel?” The lick of his lips and the shit-eating grin was on display all over the island for the people of Dressrosa to see, the image of Doflamingo’s hips thrusting and making contact with your rear.

“Does it feel good to have the whole island watching you being fucked senseless, by me? Their king?”

You couldn’t respond, lost in the insane amount of pleasure that ran through your body, specifically your lower regions. You didn’t even care that you were being watched, basking in the euphoria you were given at the moment.

Doffy’s strings suspended you partially in air, the material binding your body so you couldn’t move in the slightest as he took you from behind.

Arms wrapped around your bare figure, one holding you thigh tightly while the other wrapped around your torso, his hand grasping your throat and his fingers, pressing itself onto the flesh of your neck.

If you were fortunate, your face was cut off from the screen to be visible but your exposed body was seen by everyone who watched.

Doflamingo felt glory and power, as he continued to fuck you for all to see, your sweet, melodic moans echoing through the island as he did this.

What a fantasy that will soon become a reality.

Kid

Literally anything but also nothing. I couldn’t think of anything.. so here’s a kink he has! Dominant Submission. (?) basically, he LOVES the submissive ones, but those who really fight back. Feisty bitches yk? But like, he knows you’re all talk because he’ll have you begging for him on your knees once the two of you really get started. ;)

You’re teasing the hell out of Kid. You’re being bad by ignoring Kid and disobeying his orders and the Captain has had enough.

He barges into your room, slamming the door shut with the lock clicking on and before you could react, he has his hand around your throat and your back shoved to the wall.

“You think you’re being funny?” He growls into your ear, instantly using his free hand to rip your clothes off in a swift pull.

Despite the lack of air you had, your face still formed a sly and cheeky smirk in response. “I..I think it’s.. hilarious. Ha.”

Kid scowls before slowly smirking himself and tightened his grip on your neck a little bit more, but not enough to actually kill you. ( he cares after all :> )

“Tch. Looks like you need a punishment.” He drags you over to your bed and shoves you roughly done onto him, unbuckling his pants and pulled the belt out from the loops and pressed the two ends together so he had an able whipping belt. ( make sense? )

You merely grin at this and tilt your head. “Oh? Is that for me?” You hum and sat up, legs up and spread for him to see your already getting wet pussy, arms over you knees.

The sight of it made Kid growl lowly before he walks closer to you. “Time for you to face the consequences of pissing me off.”

With one hand, he forces you down onto the bed, breasts against the mattress and your ass forcefully in the air.

And with the raise of his other hand, it was only seconds before a loud whip was heard.

Tears stings the corner of your eyes but you still held strong, biting your lip. “Is that all you got? Guess you weren’t so angry.” You laugh and Kid didn’t respond, only whipping you once more, a little more force.

“Don’t you worry. I have all night long.”

[ I could write a whole OneShot about this, I had to stop lol ]

Marco

Little bit harder, buttt, come on. Sex in the air? Marco’s dream, for sure. And if he’s going to admit it, yes, he has done sexual activities in the air, where no one would be around.

The blonde doctor soars across the sky, a little ways away from the ship, not too far to lose sight but enough where he wouldn’t be seen, regardless of it being the time of night.

He’s only ever done it once or twice, but the no matter how many times Marco would do it again afterwards, the first time experience couldn’t ever be bested.

Sexual activities in the air.

Yet, that didn’t mean Marco didn’t love the thrill and excitement it brought him, especially when he did it so often in his younger days.

Extending his bright cyan blue wings out and around him, Marco palms himself through his pants, shutting his eyes before slightly lowering his pants enough to release his cock into the exposed cold air.

Marco shivers before reeling back and moving so he was laying down, his wings as support. One left propped up and his fingers wrapped itself around his shaft, his touch slow.

With nothing but the moon lighting down on him and the refreshing night breeze in the midnight sky, Marco felt at ease as he continues to rub his length in a teasingly slow motion, only increasing in speed seconds after.

Marco won’t lie, when it came to his release, he often did it into his hands and a bit dripping down onto his hips and chest,

but it felt good letting his cum spurt into the ocean.

Thatch

It’s pretty known that Thatch is a real perv with large sexual desires. ( at least to me because of @ honeybakedthatch lol ) however, this personal secret is his dirtiest one yet.

Thatch bit his lip as he grunted out a soft groan, feeling the rest of his warm, bitter cum shooting out from his tip and into the leftover mixture of cream and condensed milk he made for the cinnamon buns.

Pulling his pants up and zipping it tight, Thatch made sure to thoroughly mix the cum and mixture together with a plastic spoon before drizzling it over the cinnamon buns he left out just for you.

The plastered grin Thatch wore merely widens as he watched the ordinary looking cinnamon buns look identical to the others, but he knew the pleasant surprise in taste that differed.

Just as he finished drizzling the cream, the door opened, you having walked in. “Thatch, I smell something good! What is it?”

The cheery, innocent smile you had made Thatch smirk a bit, the imagination all too pleasant, the thought of you eating his delicious cinnamon buns.

“I made cinnamon buns. Here, I made these especially for you.” Thatch holds out the separate plate he had and walks closer to you, placing a sweet kiss on your temple before letting you take the plate and fork.

“Enjoy. If it’s a bit too bitter, let me know and I’ll.. sweeten it up for you.”

Mihawk

This stoic ass man is such an intimate, romanticist, he doesn’t quite have very dirty secrets.. but, one kink he secretly has is bondage and slight corruption. He won’t ever mention it but if you bring it up, he’ll voice his opinions on it.

“Now, now, love. You should be careful.”

Mihawk’s strict but amused tone was evident as he sat in his chair and watched you writhe in the tight black silk ribbons that bounded you on the ground.

Your arms were tied behind your back, your vision blocked by a silk blindfold and your legs were forced spread by a ankle bar, exposing your bare heat towards Mihawk.

You were leaning against a table/chair, and the only thing you could hear were Mihawk’s praises and warnings, along with the humming vibration that came from the vibrator strapped to your clit.

“You might loosen the binds, and you know you don’t want that, do you?” Mihawk sternly questions and you shook your head, biting your lip to prevent yourself from moaning out too loud.

“Oh? You aren’t responding?” Mihawk smiles slightly as he leans on his hand, elbow on the armrest of his chair. “I asked you a question.”

You gasp out in realization and stammered out, trying to close your legs from the shock and orgasm you keep receiving.

“I-I mean no.. h-hah.. ah.. I, I don’t want it to loosen.” Your blush darkens at the embarrassment you held, but you loved this, just as much as Mihawk did.

Shanks

I could come up with a bunch of things but the first thing my mind went to was — sex tapes. Shanks is all for EVERYTHING but I feel like sex tapes seal the deal. Especially since he hooks up with so many women, I’m sure.

Shanks watches as the woman below him arches her back and curls her toes in pure bliss and euphoria.

The loud moans escaping her lips and filling the motel rooms only edged him further.

His tight grip on the woman’s left thigh glides up to grab the soft mound flesh on her left, his fingers twisting the little perky bud as he thrusted his hips roughly into her, eliciting a louder pleasurable cry.

The sound of skin slapping was the only thing heard other than the heavy grunts of Shanks and the mewls of the woman being fucked into oblivion.

Shanks, despite having the time of his life and was nearing his climax as he continued to thrust into the two small and tight lips, it’s walls clenching around him, could only think about the recording camera on its designated position on top of the drawer.

As much as he loved the real experience at the current moment, he couldn’t wait to rewatch the recording of it and relive the experience that way.

A/N: here you go, hun! I know you wanted a part 2 with these characters and I hope this went out you expected and wanted! :>

A few don’t have proper endings but it’s gooddd enoughhh for me. :p

jus wondering, what do y’all think Kid has? Master, sir, daddy or captain kink? Or none and just his name?

Law def has a “doc/doctor” kink lol but since I’m at it, I don’t think Marco has that.

#tooweirdforyou #one piece #one piece x reader #op x reader #x reader #op #one piece writing #dracule mihawk x reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #one piece thatch x reader #one piece thatch #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #marco the phoenix x reader #marco the phoenix #eustass captain kid x reader #eustass kid x reader #ns.fw

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years ago

Text

I turn and reach for you

Summary: Three months after Hankel, Spencer starts getting terrible nightmares that keep him up at night. He tries desperately to keep his secret until one day when it's all too much to bear anymore. Luckily, Derek Morgan is there to hold him together as he falls apart.

Tags: nightmares, hurt/comfort, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, fluff, literal sleeping together, getting together, post-revelations TW: past non-con drug use mentioned once in passing

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This feels the "Nightmares" square on my Bad Things Happen bingo card, and was written for this prompt by @i-write-whump. Title from a poem by Devon Strang.

After Spencer is kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, he stays with Derek. Nobody on the team wants him to be alone, and he’s always felt the most comfortable with him, so it makes sense. Besides, he’s got the space.

Spencer sometimes wonders whether the team pushed so hard for it because they genuinely believed that, logistically, Derek was the best option, or because they could also see the slow-burning romance simmering under the surface of their relationship. They’ve always had a special friendship, but Spencer can feel the growing tension: the deep and intense looks they share mid-case, the lingering touches on backs and arms, the affection leaking into each ‘pretty boy’ and every ‘Der’.

Perhaps if Hankel never came into the picture they’d already be together — it really had felt like they were on the precipice of something special — but it’s three months later and Spencer’s still sleeping in the spare room; there’s still just as much will they, won’t they lingering in the air between them.

He tries not to mind too much. After all, he’s never had so much free access to the man he’s pined after for years now, and they’re living in each other’s pockets. Almost every waking hour is spent in one another’s company: they cook together, eat together, watch films together, and neither of them are showing any sign of getting sick of it. But every time they’re cooking pasta and Derek says something ridiculous, Spencer wishes he was allowed to lean in and kiss the tip of his nose; every time they sit down to watch something together, he wishes he could burrow into his side and rest his head in the crook of his neck.

(Sometimes, Spencer wishes he could rewind to the weeks immediately after the Hankel incident when Derek would carry him around the flat to keep him off his broken feet; when he could press his face into his shoulder and inhale the scent of complete and utter safety.)

It’s almost torturous, being so close yet so far.

He isn’t quite sure why the nightmares start so late. The nights during the first couple of months are blissfully dreamless, so exhausted from the physical and emotional trauma that sleep was a tantalising escape, but once he’s back in the field, once normal life resumes, everything changes.

The first time he wakes up sweating and panting, heart pounding as he tries to convince himself that he’s no longer in Hankel’s clutches but is safe and sound in Derek’s apartment, he dismisses it as a one-off. He hasn’t had nightmares yet, so why should they start now? He doesn’t go back to sleep that night, too shaken to relax back into the comforting embrace of sleep, too afraid of deception: that he wouldn’t sleep dreamlessly but that the nightmare would be waiting for him once again.

The second time worries him. He gets up this time and gets a glass of water as quietly as possible, leaning with his back against the kitchen counter as he ponders what this could mean for him. The thing is, they’re so incredibly vivid. It really feels like he’s back at the mercy of a three-in-one torturer armed with drugs and belts and guns, genuinely unsure of whether he’ll ever see his family again. He doesn’t go back to sleep this time, either, instead pacing around the living room until Derek wakes up. He lies that he’s only been up for half an hour, and Derek believes him.

The third time solidifies for Spencer the fact that this is a problem. Three is a pattern, everybody knows that, and Spencer spends the rest of the night scouring the internet for studies conducted around delayed trauma responses and discovers the prevalence of delayed-onset PTSD. He’s tempted to contact a professor he met during his third PhD who specialised in the psychology of trauma, but he thinks better of it. Admitting these nightmares would be admitting defeat.

This is something he has to deal with alone.

(He ignores the truth that it’s more fear than anything else that keeps him from telling anyone: fear of being seen as weak, fear of nothing changing, fear of voicing his trauma out loud. It’s easier to pretend it’s about independent agency.)

It doesn’t affect him too much at first. Sure, he’s scared to go to sleep and he sweats so profusely that it soaks through his bedsheets almost every night, but he’s managing. He’s okay. He contributes just as much to their profiles and takes down unsubs without flinching. He dances around Derek like they have done for over a year, and he sits through Dr Who marathons with Penelope just fine. So what if he’s a bit tired? He’s stared down some of America’s Most Wanted and interviewed famous serial killers, he can cope with a little fatigue.

It doesn’t stay that easy for long.

Soon everybody’s asking about the bags under his eyes, his slower reaction times when they visit the gun range, his twitchiness around the team.

“Are you sleeping okay, Spencer?” Penelope asks him one day, brushing a curly lock of hair behind his ears as they sit side by side on the sofa next to a conked out Derek.

He can’t nod his head quick enough. “Yeah! Yes, uh. Yes, Penelope, I’m sleeping fine, I promise,” he says as convincingly as he can, flashing her a smile. He hates lying to her, but he can’t let anyone find out, he just can’t.

Slowly, he begins losing his grip on reality. He’s almost delusional from the sleep deprivation, and he starts seeing Hankel everywhere he goes. He’s stood behind the fridge door, in the foyer of the FBI Headquarters, in the toilets of a local police station, stood right behind the unsub they’re currently trying to talk down, goddamnit.

He’s beyond exhausted, but some nights he still refuses to sleep, too afraid of what awaits him in his dreams, too afraid of the fear he knows he’ll carry into the next day, too afraid of feeling weak again. Helpless. Completely and utterly without agency.

He sits up with his back against the headboard, the main light off but the lamp switched on, scrolling through as many scholarly articles as he can read in a night, drinking cup after cup of steaming black coffee. Most nights he makes it through till morning without sleeping a wink, but sometimes he can’t stop himself from drifting off The nightmares on those nights are the worst.

He isn’t okay and people are starting to notice. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him right now, but he knows it won’t be long before Penelope organises an intervention that Hotch hosts and Derek directs. The worst part about it is that he feels like a trainwreck waiting to happen. He’s headed straight for complete and utter collapse, and the only possible way to stop the train in its tracks is to reach out and get help, the one thing he can’t get himself to do.

And he isn’t even really sure why.

It all comes to a head on a warm night in July. He’d fallen into bed that night deliberately, actually intending to sleep for once. The bone-deep tiredness had finally caught up to him and he didn’t even care that he was walking straight into the arms of Tobias Hankel, if it meant he got even an iota of refreshing sleep, then it would be worth it.

But he isn’t quite of the same mind when he wakes up at two in the morning like he does almost every night: soaked in sweat with his heart going a million beats per minute, with only one difference. Tonight, he’s crying.

Maybe it’s the emotional turmoil of the last few months catching up to him, or maybe it’s just the severity of this particular dream, but whatever it is, he can’t seem to stop even once he’s awake. Sobs wrack his shoulders as he cries miserably into the pillow, finally letting out the emotions he’s kept bottled up so tightly, and he’s almost wailing after a couple of minutes of anguish.

All he can think as he cries helplessly is how badly he wants Derek. He wants to be wrapped up in his strong and safe embrace, he wants to feel the movement of his soft goatee against his cheek, he wants to inhale the comforting scent of his sleep t-shirts, he wants the warmth and solace that only Derek Morgan can give him, and in that moment, emotionally distraught and so incredibly sleep-deprived, he decides to get it.

He stumbles out of his bedroom and down the hall, stopping once he reaches Derek’s door. He hesitates for only a second before he pushes it open slowly, allowing the light from the lamp they keep switched on in the hallway to gently illuminate the shadows of his bedroom.

“Spencer?” Derek asks groggily, immediately sitting up and wiping his eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

At the acknowledgement of his tears, Spencer starts to cry harder, and as embarrassed as he feels, he can’t slow the steady stream of tears rolling down his face as he stands in the doorway like a child in their parents’ room.

“Spence,” Derek says again, gentle and sympathetic, “come here.” He lifts the duvet up and scooches over slightly as if to make room for him in his already spacious king-size bed.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, though, and he stumbles forward, collapsing into bed and wrapping himself around Derek instantly. His arms come up to circle Spencer’s waist, caressing him gently as he holds him close to his body, shushing him quietly.

“It’s okay, Spence,” he murmurs. “I’m here now, alright? We’re gonna fix whatever it is, I promise you. We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this.”

He lets himself cry and cry and cry until his tears are dried up and he’s hiccupping from the force of his sobs. He would feel terrible about the damp spot left on Derek’s t-shirt, but he simply doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he continues to lie there on Derek’s chest, listening to his softly spoken assurances and losing himself in the sensation of Derek’s fingertips caressing the skin of his waist.

After a couple of minutes of silence, interrupted only by the odd hiccup from Spencer’s tired lungs, Derek finally asks the question. “What was that all about, pretty boy?” he asks with a tenderness Spencer isn’t sure he’s ever heard before. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Been having nightmares,” Spencer whispers, keeping his eyes closed against Derek’s imploring gaze.

He feels Derek tense beneath him, his fingers briefly pausing before resuming their comforting patterns on his waist, and a heavy breath escapes his lips. “For how long?”

“Last couple of months,” he mumbles, and somehow another tear manages to escape Spencer’s screwed up eyes.

“Well,” Derek sighs, “I suppose that explains a lot. We’ve been so worried about you, Spencer. We had no idea what was going on but we could all see you withdrawing, and it wasn’t exactly a secret how exhausted you were.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Derek says sadly. “I should’ve pushed harder to figure out what was going on with you. I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this all alone.”

“I didn’t know how to tell anyone,” Spencer says, suddenly desperate to explain as he shifts slightly to look Derek in the eye. “I was so scared and I didn’t want anyone to think that I was weak or I couldn’t do my job anymore, and I just didn’t know what to do.”

“I know, Spence,” Derek says soothingly, “but you’ve told me now, haven’t you? And I’m going to do everything I can to get you some help. We’ll fix this, baby. I promise you, I’m going to make sure you’re happy and healthy again if it’s the last thing I do, okay?”

Spencer sniffs a little, wiping tiredly at his eyes as he blinks up at the sincerity on Derek’s face. For the first time in far too long he manages a smile. “Okay.”

Derek runs a hand through his hair before dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

Spencer’s smile widens and he buries his face in Derek’s chest again as his cheeks flush red. “Please.”

Months later, they’ll realise they never officially asked one another to be in an actual, exclusive relationship. Months later, they’ll know instinctively and with absolute certainty that this night was the night that changed everything for them, and exactly one year later, they’ll celebrate their first anniversary on that date.

Tonight, though, they sleep curled up next to one another in Derek’s bed, and although Spencer doesn’t fall into the same dreamless sleep he grew used to immediately after Hankel, for once he isn’t haunted by nightmares, but dreams inflected with hope for what the future holds for them, and he’ll take that over dreamlessness any day.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @ @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds (add yourself to my taglist)

#my writing #moreid #derek #spencer #derek morgan #criminal minds #spencer reid #moreid fic #moreid fanfic #moreid fanfiction #cm #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan #spencer reid x derek morgan #userpenemily

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