#so i thought the only using fish part would be enough

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

yesterday i started quite possibly the silliest locke i could do (fisherman challenge. i am a fisherman and can only use fish)

[grabby-smitten]

Concrete Jungle: King of the beasts

Summary: Buying a hybrid was not what you had in mind when you asked for independence. Sylus didn’t like humans but his owner was the exception.

Subjects: Albino lion Hybrid!Sylus x F!Reader

Word count: 4.1k+

Content Warnings: Hybrid AU, smut, owner reader, kissing, cunnilingus, P in V, breeding, cnc if u squint really hard, biting, textured tongue. Use of words like predator/prey, cunt, pussy, kitten. Not edited and no beta.

A.N: I learned that big cats can’t purr and I was so disappointed. Oh, well….ah! I might do one for each li. k bye 💋

“Are you sure, I need one?” You’ve asked your parents that question for the umpteenth time.

“Yes, a hybrid is a good caretaker and it would make us feel better knowing one is protecting you.” Your father answered with a tired smile, understanding your uneasiness but they weren’t going to change their mind.

Moving out and finally becoming independent was just one step away from happening. Your parents were against it at first. Coming from money means someone will always be after your trail, danger and they had overprotected you, their only daughter since… well, even before you were born. They weren’t able to have natural children so you were conceived through artificial methods. Which, according to your parents, was a whole ordeal and suffering. Details that you rather not know.

It was time, though, to deep your toes into a world of your own. You wanted freedom for once. No dozens of bodyguards, no tracking devices and no fear of the unknown.

The part of convincing your parents was hard. No, after no, after no. Until, the head of security, taking pity on you, suggested buying a hybrid for you. Not just any hybrid; one specially made to protect and serve.

Now it was your turn to profoundly refuse. Everyone had one and those who didn’t, desired one… like some kind of accessory. It sickened you and besides, you didn’t want another responsibility. You wanted your own life! Not taking care of some… dog? Cat? Fish?

In the end, you had no other choice but to agree and here you were, in some facility. Breeding facility? Training? You didn’t care enough to pay attention, honestly.

Walking behind your parents in an all-white hall, smelling like antiseptic and gagging at the chemical sensation in your throat, you started to notice how the white walls began to turn into cages. Placards hung in the walls near the tinted glass and steel bars of the cages with descriptions of the… hybrids?

Looking up from the labels, you finally realized you no longer were alone. Each cell was occupied by humanoid-shaped shadows. The tint of the reinforced glass obstructed your vision but it was clear they were there.

So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize a couple of strangers had joined your family. Paying a bit more attention to their chatter, you concluded they were doctors or scientists from this facility. They were explaining something about their products and that it was the best the market could offer. You frowned at their words. It was like you were buying a car… they even explained the insurance policy.

“And this specimen, right here, is our finest hybrid!” One of the men talking to your parents loudly explained.

You stepped closer to the placard and read the few words it contained. ‘Albino Lion Hybrid (Panthera leo Hybrid, large cat family Felidae). Apex predator (no natural enemy known). Renowned king of the beasts. More active at night. Preferable habitats: grassland, dense scrub, savanna, and open woodland. Nomadic male.’

Your eyes widened once your brain processed the information. This was no guard dog or house cat. Before you could utter a complaint about how obnoxious this all was, the tinted glass cleared and you were looking straight into a pair of scarlet eyes.

Sylus almost laughed at the face of the female standing outside his cell. The little mouse seemed in shock to see him there. What was she expecting? Where else would he be? If not caged and on display here— absurd, he thought. All humans that came here, came for one thing and one thing only; to purchase a wild species, a unique breed to flaunt to their peers. Sylus continuously thought about how weird these humans behaved in society. Their hierarchy dynamics were messed up and he despised that.

You felt his eyes mocking you, such deep red and the only thing you could feel was irritation. Frowning, you turned your head and left him. See how he likes grouching on his own.

Once you were a few steps away, the scientists or doctors stared at the red-eyed big cat hybrid with wonder and… respect? This place was bonkers, you thought to yourself.

“So this is the one?” Your mother asked and marveled at the sight of the lion hybrid. White-silver hair, large, powerful presence, and sharp features.

“Yes, ma’am. Our best subject. Well trained in all the aspects you requested and fairly knowledgeable which is hard to come by with these beats.”

Hearing all that gave you stomach reflux, the acidity burning your esophagus. Your dam was about to break and all your pent-up feelings would end up costing you your freedom if it wasn’t for the red-eyed hybrid. He knocked on the glass and you jumped, startled. You were surprised, he even beckoned you with a finger and again, surprised now with yourself, you automatically obeyed.

It was like a trance. A hypnotic daze of sorts. Both met face to face once again, only separated by the reinforced glass. For a moment you were distracted, the outburst you were about to have laid dormant in the back of your head.

What is this…? Sylus couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity. That’s why he was so close to the glass earlier too. He couldn’t see the other side a while ago but something was pulling him there. The whole day he felt restless and on guard as if something resonated within him.

Could this be—

“Ah! Marvelous! Look! They are already interested in each other! Sylus is not showing any signs of hostility or repulsion…” a different scientist exclaimed with eagerness, interrupting whatever connection you had with Sylus at that moment.

Not many words were needed to convince your parents after that show you and Sylus put up. Papers were signed, money transferred and a very confused Sylus was sedated and prepared for shipment.

The big city. Polluted air, noisy streets twenty-four hours a day, and hybrids everywhere. Most people carried one; a human with some animal characteristics, and now you were one of them too. Sylus was scheduled to arrive in a few minutes. All the things you would need to care for him were already in your apartment and even his paperwork. Name, birth, permits and you; listed as his owner.

The melodic tune of your ring bell announced the dreaded moment. You knew Sylus would be escorted here and that most of the traveling time he would have been sedated, but still the long distance between your new home and the facility he was kept in was almost six hours away. You feared a big grumpy cat.

Oh boy… grumpy was an understatement. He didn’t look happy. The moment he stepped foot in and all the straps holding him were taken off, he waited for the delivery people to disappear and he pounced. Surprisingly not on you. He went through all your stuff. According to the guide you received he was scenting. He went through your whole house; rubbing, scratching and overall making a mess.

“Stop! Hey, hmm… Sylus? You don’t have to scent my clothes.” You tried talking to him but he was not interested in your opinion, apparently. He just glanced at you and kept doing whatever he was doing before, like you were the one, not understanding. You had to snatch your underwear from his closed fist in a panic.

He went nonverbal for a week. A week! You were going insane. Yes, he obeyed. Yes, he was extremely independent and didn’t cause any more commotion besides the panty situation on the first day. But God… he was extremely quiet. It wasn’t until you commanded him to that you realized you should have read the manual until the last page; not only the summary.

“Sylus! Say something!” You demanded; going insane was not in your plans for the foreseeable future. They never told you he was mute or anything of that nature.

“Is there anything you need from me, my lady?” His deep and slow voice had your heart leaping out from your chest.

You just stood there, gaping and looking at him like you couldn’t believe he was able to make a sound. Yeah, not even his steps produced sounds. Sylus examined his human with a gleam of humor in his sapphire eyes. This face was a common one for her and he found it… almost endearing. It reminded him of the first time you two met.

“You can talk…” you whispered low and saw how his fluffy round, and white ears twitched. “You can talk!” Again, you exclaimed, pointing a finger at him in disbelief. “Why haven’t you said anything before?!”

“I wasn’t allowed to,” he calmly explained. That mischievous twinkle in his eyes never left, “my owner never requested me to do so until now.”

And that’s how you spend almost three days reading the darn manuals with a now very talkative feline.

You found that Sylus was more than just a pet. He could cook, clean and even force you to exercise which ended up backfiring. You couldn’t keep up with his supposedly healthy routine. A healthy lifestyle means a happy owner, and you would curse under your breath every time he repeated it.

In general, you were happy, he seemed happy and living with him was easier than you thought. Quickly, you two began to build a bond and it was a matter of time before he began to realize why it had been so easy to adapt to this human. His human which is how he referred to you.

Following the manual, you always made sure to have everything Sylus would need. Even his heats. At first, you tried to get him a heat partner and it was a mess. More like you were a mess. Even Sylus was surprised at how you ended up kicking out the poor rental gazelle hybrid in less than five minutes. You didn’t understand what took over you to be so… overprotective.

Oh, but Sylus was not complaining. Watching you almost declare war in his name gave him a deep satisfaction. So much so that he accepted to take suppressants for the time being.

After that incident, things began to change drastically. Sylus in return became a bit more aggressive towards any living creature that was in less than a mile radius of you. Growling, pushing, and even wrapping you with his tail and pulling you towards his body anytime he felt you were in danger. Yeah, you were in so much danger from the tube man… that air dancing balloon from the car wash a couple of blocks away.

“It can be that bad…” you took hold of his arm around your waist in a reassuring manner.

He’s been walking with you in his hold since you crossed paths with the inflatable dancing man.

“It has erratic movements. You never know what he might do next.”

Yeah, it was a recurring situation.

Yeah, he was prepared for everything and anything. Well, except one morning when his nose woke him up.

A sweet intoxicating scent traveled through his nostrils and shook him awake. He felt his mouth water, his canines aching, and his eyes turning into thin lines. The predator in him had been disturbed and its awakening meant trouble.

In all his years in captivity, he had never felt such hunger. Something was clawing in his chest, desperate to come out, each intake of air was pulling his sanity deeper and deeper while the monster surfaced.

Like any good hunter, he let his nose guide him through the house. Following such an intoxicating aroma took him to your door. There he stood—elaborated breathing, sharp fingers encrusted on his palms searching for restrain. You were inside; sleeping soundly in the early hours of the morning. He could hear your soft breathing mixing with his wildly beating heart. Knowing you weren’t aware of the predator outside your door sent a jolt of excitement through his body. Easy prey.

Was it you? Were you the one producing such… inebriant aroma? Why?

He took the handle with a death grip, his rational side fighting against instinct. He felt the urge to hunt, pursue, chase… this… this aroma and make it his own. With an internal battle raging inside him, Sylus felt the door weighed heavy on his palm, the handle burned, but he still stepped in.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room, it made no difference to him that you slept in complete darkness; his ruby-red eyes could see just fine. Then, his gaze focused on your sleeping form, little movement from your steady breathing and you had no idea that a hungry predator stood at the foot of your bed.

But Sylus didn’t move, didn’t pounce on you like he wanted. Torn between instinct and duty, he was frozen in place, sweating and overwhelmed with indecision. Your scent was clouding his every sense, making it even more difficult to do the right thing. It was like time had stopped and the only thing on his mind was the palpitations in his groin for even letting his skin touch the hair surrounding you.

What was the right thing? He asked himself. Neck—cracking as his body suddenly shuddered in pain, Sylus was holding himself back by a fine thread.

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. You were not like his kind who would accept mating just because of a sudden heat. You were human and he had that fact ingrained into his mind. With a whimper of pain and trepidation, Sylus walked over to the side of your bed; every step was excruciating for the hybrid. Once he reached the edge, he did like every other night shared with you. Sylus, silently whining, laid beside you and wrapped his arms tightly, but this time he kept a generous distance between his hips and your back.

He was not a mindless beast. Not to you.

“Sylus… I can’t breathe…” you don’t know when, you don’t know how, but Sylus always ended up sleeping on top of you like a weighted blanket. “Sylus!”

“You don’t wanna know what I did to the last person who woke me up.” Each word came with a little slur at the end, he was barely waking up. No a second goes by and you felt his spiked tongue grooming the nape of your neck and soft growls shaking your whole body.

“Someone’s happy today, hmmm?” You asked in a short breath, reaching for his round and fluffy ear. As you scratched, you heard the deep grumbles of satisfaction increasing.

“Smells good…”

You felt him sniffing all over your chest, deeply inhaling, moving his head downwards. Sylus pulled your covers in a hasty manner and kept descending. Your eyes widened as you realized where he was going and your feet quickly stopped him; placing them on his shoulder and chest.

“Sy-Sylus! S-stop!” Your hands joined your legs and feet, placing your palms on his mouth and the rest of his face. “What do you—“

You stopped mid question as you felt a bit of moisture in between your legs. In a panic, your mind counted the weeks since you moved in and you have forgotten to make an appointment for your birth control replacement… which meant you must be ovulating. How could you forget? It’s been weeks! With everything happening after moving, getting Sylus and adapting to the new city. You had completely forgotten…

A muffled sound came from behind your palm and then a rough tongue pushed against your skin. You slowly retracted your arm, looking at him with apologetic eyes. It was your fault, after all.

“I was saying that you seem to be in need of assistance,” he uttered, arching an eyebrow at your saddened face.

His heavy body was pressing against the sole of your feet, your legs kept him at bay and it surprised you how… physically insistent he was being.

“What do you mean?” You quickly replied, feigning ignorance and he seemed to know your every trick because his first reaction was to give you one of those salacious smiles of his.

“You can’t exactly lie to my nose, kitten.” He almost growled every word, sending shivers through your body. “You’re fertile.”

Before you could even utter a word to contradict his truth, his hands brushed the back of your raised legs for then his fingers gently tapped your skin. You let out a squeak of surprise and swiftly moved your legs, thus giving him an opportunity to nestle in between your thighs.

“If you’re making fun of me, it’s not funny,” you rebuked, but even as you said that the pressure and sudden ache in your lower regions began to increase with the proximity and weight of Sylus.

“I’m not.” He chuckled and it reverberated down your tummy, sending deep palpitations through your core, “you didn’t read the whole manual yet, now did you?” His finger gently tugged your chin, making you stare right into his crimson orbs.

“No…” you sheepishly mumbled, embarrassed of being found again and your lack of knowledge about some stuff still in the encyclopedia-like book you were given.

“Give me the order and I will deliver, Kitten.” He whispered, eyes calling for your surrender. Sylus was pushing the right buttons by being so close, touching you, and having you cornered right where he wanted you.

“You mean…” voicing your hesitation didn’t deter him from destroying your inhibitions, brick by brick. His eyes were hypnotizing, he would give you anything you wanted and you knew you would be safe, right?

He had you caged between his body and the bed, your mind going a mile per second and your heart racing just as fast. No, he wasn’t moving an inch more and you knew he wouldn’t unless you said so.

“Okay…” you sighed finally removing a burden from your shoulders, “h-help me.” You wanted him to alleviate your aching.

“As you wish, Kitten.”

Not soon had those words left his lips, he was on you. You felt the heaviness of the impact of his lips on you. He had seemed calm while talking but his actions spoke differently. Sylus’ kiss was demanding, fiery even. His tongue took no time to slip in between your abused lips, delivering tentative licks to yours; as if tasting and enjoying you.

He kept his low throaty snarls flowing over your body, crushing you against the sheets. You could taste him too, wild, intense, so Sylus. Two bodies lay in the bed, limbs intertwined. Sylus hands traveled up your body, fingers gripping at anything he could find, your moans being greedily swallowed.

His tail kept a steady thumping behind him, lulling you deeper into his embrace. You would let him do anything, be anything if it meant this fire ignited in your chest would never cease to exist.

Sylus grasped the back of your head, fisting strands of your hair for him to pull back and expose your neck to his aching teeth. He felt euphoria ran through his veins as soon as his pearl whites connected with your tender skin. A growl and the stinging stab on your neck made you gasp, hands gripping his collar to bring him even closer as if that was possible.

In a hurry, his other hand began to tear away your pajamas as his teeth continued to gnaw almost painfully at your throat.

In a blink of an eye, you were lifted and bent. Your face harshly met the warmth of pillows. Gone were your clothes. In what moment exactly? You don’t recall and you didn’t really care at that moment.

“I knew it– fuck– the moment I saw you, I knew it.” Sylus rasped out, breath suddenly hitting your nude backside. “This was mine before you even knew it.”

He suddenly lifted your hips, exposing your dripping core to his crimson gaze. You whimpered as the cold hair hit you, hands gripping the bedsheets, and that’s all you could see. Your own fist and abundant white.

“Sy-Sylus!” You shrieked.

Your exposed pussy was invaded by his mouth, and a low vibrating sound joined. His bumpy tongue lapped eagerly, the texture making you mewl and tremble as you unconsciously tried to pull away. Now the chuffing sound changed to a growl of displeasure, his hands quickly moved to your lower tummy and pressed you back against his awaiting lips.

A mess, a wet and sloppy mess. That’s what Sylus was, still holding your body against his face. He couldn’t care less about anything other than your flavor and sounds overtaking his entire being. He slurped, nipped and spit back in just to repeat it all over again.

It took no time to have you trashing and shaking on his grip, cuming on his face, the chuffing sounds intensifying with your moaning.

Skin on skin, no clothes separating him from you, you didn’t register when he freed his body of them. Too lost to care, too much at once to have a sense of anything other than Sylus.

“You take me so well… My kitten—made for me…” he growled as he slipped every inch of him. Your warm walls protested at the intrusion as he mounted you.

Pinning you down, chest pressed against your back and your face shoved into your drool-stained pillows.

“If you keep struggling, kitten… I– fuck, fuck– you’re making it really hard to hold back” he groaned as his eyes zoomed in on your head trashing and shaking. The predator in him just looming around the corner, his female ready for the taking.

“It’s too big!” Your scream was muffled by the pillow. As your wailing reached his ears, his cock throbbed and released a few ropes of white.

“You’re being so good, kitten. Just a… bit longer…” Sylus sighed with pleasure as the creaminess made it easier to thrust into you. Incessantly, hitting that spongy spot, making you cry out as you felt more burning cum filling you up. Both breathless, both panting and an arrange of noises filled the room.

“I feel so full! Sylus! I can’t!” Tears streamed down your face at how bloated you felt, but he kept pushing and bursting inside you. One after the other; face down you had no other option but to take it.

“Not full enough— you need more…” hips slamming into you, the squelching sound of your insides consuming the silence— him bottoming out again and again. “My cunt… will only have my cubs…”

You’re not sure how long it was, you were in and out. Lost a daze, being shoved, pressed and pounded mercilessly… Sylus voice swirled through your mushy brain— satisfaction, and ecstasy running wild through both of your bodies.

Blinking once, twice. You felt heavy and your foggy vision wasn’t helping. You still felt the aftermath of it all. Legs sporadically spamming, lower tummy so heavy and sore.

“You… came so much…” you whispered in between breaths. His cum was dripping from your tender hole, rapidly pooling on the bed. “Why?”

He shrugged, as he caressed your cheek.

“A lion’s thing,” he mumbled softly, pulling you closer and gently holding you.

The rest of the day you were spent. Too exhausted to do anything else. Sylus bathed you, changed the bedding, brought you drinks and food, and gave you the darn manual to finish it for once.

“Sylus!” You slapped his naked chest with indignation. “Here,” you pointed to an article you highlighted, “it says that lion hybrids can copulate for two to three days? Two hundred times in succession? Are you insane?” That explains a lot.

“I am just waiting for you to rest, humans are more delicate than I thought. We’re not moving from this room.” He deadpanned.

Your expression fell as his eyes seemed to show how serious he was being.

“I read that lionesses bite the male’s ballsack when they are upset or something,” you grinned wickedly. “I will do that if you don’t behave!”

“I wouldn’t oppose, sweetie.” He goaded. Your smile slowly faded as your threat was not working as planned. “So… I see you are feeling more… energetic.”

You threw a pillow at him before he pounced on you.

Ah, yes… a gentle protector a trusted guardian, but a beast on the sheets.

[inbabylontheywept]

Memories of Grandpa Hank

I'm eating a bag of mormon gorp that tastes like gasoline while watching the rain run down the mountain. The taste doesn't even bother me anymore - all homemade gorp tastes like this. It's just a natural consequence of everyone keeping their prepper shit in their garages. 

My dad's out in the clearing, wandering around with his GPS. He's got some pieces of wire out on top of it to try and make the effective antennae bigger, but it just makes it look like he's dowsing. Another mormon tradition. I ask him if he's close to find water yet, and he looks up at me, little rivers flowing off him, and says yeah - he can feel it. 

I'm sure he can. I settle under my tree and watch the droplets roll down the needles. Awaiting the final judgement of Judge GPS. 

A few minutes later, it provides: 

Turns out my dad forgot to record the location of the car this morning. The GPS remembers where we parked yesterday, but by luck my dad knows how to get from there to our car. Downside is that it's a nine mile walk just to get to yesterday's position, then another five miles to backtrack. That's fourteen miles total. 

I'm only thirteen. 

Think you can make it? my dad asks. And it's a kindness that he's worried, but it's not like there's an alternative. What else would I do, sit down in the murk and cross my fingers he finds me again? Ask him to carry me 14 miles? 

I'll be pretty jelly legged, I say. But yeah. I'll make it. 

Attaboy, he says. He fishes a bag of poptarts out and offers me one as - I think - a peace offering. A, sorry you're gonna have to walk 14 miles in the rain because I goofed kind of gift. 

I take a bite and, despite being individually wrapped, it still manages to taste like diesel fumes. We start hiking our incredibly long distance in terrible weather for foolish reasons, and I joke to my dad that the only way to make this day any more mormon would be by pushing handcarts. 

He laughs. Neither of us laugh again until 11 pm, when we stumble like drunkards into camp. My grandpa has stayed up late to make sure we weren’t lost, but he only stays up long enough to see us arrive. We try to eat a dinner of sweet potato stew, but after falling asleep in the middle twice, we agree to just go to bed. 

I sleep in well past nine and wake up to nobody in camp but my grandpa. My dad left with my sister to keep hunting around 5 am. I know that everyone assumes that their dad is invincible when they're 13, but I'm 28 now and part of me still thinks he's gonna live forever. That God made exactly one perpetual motion machine, and it raised me in the desert. 

---

Around noon my grandpa suggests hunting again. If it was my dad, I'd probably tune him out, but I like my grandpa's style of hunting. My dad hikes and hikes and hikes until the elk get tired and just let him shoot them. My grandpa finds the sleepiest, sunniest, coziest field and takes a nap there, figuring if the elk have any decent taste they'll come there at some point.

Man's got a knack for knowing what elk like - he's right more often than not. I think he might've been an elk in a previous life. 

I go with him, and much as I hate to admit it, the hike is good for me. I start off walking like a pirate on two peg legs, so stiff I might as well not have knees, but by the end of the mile and a half walk I'm almost normal. We make it to the edge of the clearing, and my grandpa finds a patch of grass taller and softer than the beds inside the trailer, and he curls up to sleep there. I look across the grass and I watch the comings of goings of critters through the field. Sometimes I use the scope to get a magnified view, but I never do so with my hand on the trigger. The thought of accidentally looking a person through that glass is something that sends a chill up my spine. 

Some deer wander through the glen, but it'd take a fool to mistake one of them for an elk. A few hours later, my grandpa wakes up and asks if I want to wander around a little. It's a lovely day. Rain comes in bursts in Arizona, and the day after is almost always clear as can be. And for a short while, all the desert browns turn green and lush. Hard mosses turn squishy and cacti swell up like fresh baked muffins and for a while you can get why people settled in these god forsaken wastes. 

So I go with him, and we walk on, me with my gun, him just taking in the forest. He looks so peaceful that I get a little jealous, but it's not until my grandpa stops and looks at me that I even notice it myself. Takes a mirror, sometimes, to know yourself.

Being near my grandpa is always a strange thing for me. He's quiet, and he doesn't talk much, and I don't ever get the feeling that he's particularly emotionally intelligent - but it's like he's interacting with a reality more raw and real than mine. Like I'm watching symbols on a screen and he's counting atoms. And sometimes, just being near him gives me access to that raw matter. Just something about how he is breaks the illusions of the world.

He looks at the gun like a foreign object, like he doesn't recognize it, then he looks at me. He speaks and he doesn't mince words. 

What would you do if an elk came across the path and you shot it right now? he asks. 

Well, I'd start cleaning it, I say, and he waves the words away like cobwebs in his face. 

But would you celebrate? he presses.

And I look at him, and I don't actually see any judgement staring back. He knows the answer, and he's at peace with it. He’s asking so I can see it too. He’s being a mirror so I can see my own face.

I think I might actually cry, I admit. And he nods along in agreement before reaching forward to take the gun off my shoulder. 

Lets just walk today, he says. No chance of killing anything. No worrying about that. 

Right, I say. 

He pops the chamber open and tosses me back my bullet. I catch it, and the relief I feel is palpable. 

Can I change my mind? I ask, and he shrugs.

Whenever you want. Hunt or don’t. It’s not the hunting that I’m worried about. It’s seeing you ignore your conscience.

And for a moment, I'm there in the real world with him, and my gloves are off, and reality is a metal cube in my hand: Sharp and cold and heavy.

Or maybe that’s just the bullet.

---

We make it back to camp a bit later than my dad. We get there and he’s waiting for us. If he's tired, he doesn't show it. 

How'd it go? he asks. My grandpa looks at me, and I don't know how to respond. I don't know how to explain it, and I am scared. 

Great, he replies. It's a shame Babs only has a doe tag. We saw a five-point out there. Close enough to hit with a football. 

No, my dad says. If his grin was a half inch wider, both ends of his mouth would meet in the back of his head and everything above his tongue would slide off.

Tell him Babs, grandpa says. And, not for the first time, and especially not the last, I try my hand at spinning a yarn. 

It's pretty good. But at 13, I still have a lot to learn.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 3

John “Soap” MacTavish + breeding (ft some Ghost)

Been busy all day, so a short one today. I know absolutely nothing about the military and ranks, but readers at least good enough to go on missions with Soap and Ghost. Lil bit of Ghoap x reader, but Soap focused.

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Soap was trying his hardest to balance between the two front seats of the vehicle Ghost as jacked, hands grasping both the seats as Soap as leant forwards, his sweaty flushed face hanging out between the seats. He knew Ghost could see him, and that the skull faced driver let his eyes linger, sometimes too long to just pass off as a casual glance.

But honestly, what was casual about this in the first place. It stopped being casual the moment Soap dragged you into the back of the car, planting his muscular ass in your lap and start nipping and licking at your face like a starved hound. Apparently seeing you headbutt a guy hard enough that he started coughing up blood was what got the Scotsman going. The heated look in Ghosts eyes had you feeling like it wasn’t just Soap.

Soap had groaned and writhed in your lap like a landed fish, rocking his bulge against your stomach as he tried his best to entice you to take him. You hissed at Soap that you two weren’t alone, but the lazy handwave and “don’t hold back for my sake” from Ghost just sealed the deal.

If it had been up to Soap, you wouldn’t even have opened him up. Youd just have shoved him face first against one of the seats and just went to town, ignoring his groans and gnashing teeth. Adrenaline had a tendency to turn him a little more feral than normal, and maybe the many brushes with death had rewritten his brain chemistry somewhat. At least to the point where it got him hard, watching you kill a guy.

Much to Soaps whining you still stretched him open, at least enough to fit three or four fingers inside him. You normally would have drawn it out longer, to make sure he was truly loosened up enough and comfortable, but Soap wanted it to hurt a little. The hot eye contact you kept with Ghost in the rearview mirror didn’t truly help at all, causing you to tell him to keep his eyes on the road, only getting a slow hot laugh from the Brit.

Soap was keening like a shot dog as you finally turned him around, hand placed on his lower back and making him arch his back to present himself. All that military training had done one good thing, at least that’s what you thought as you couldn’t keep from smacking that shapely ass in front of you. The noise Soap let out was more animal than human, but he clearly didn’t mind if you really laid into him right then and there.

Instead, you saddled yourself up and pushed inside him, as good as you could with the cars jostling. You had to have a death grip on his narrow waist to keep the adrenalin junkie from just forcing his hips back to take all of you at once, his eager twitches and jolts making you growl at him to stay still. Ghost was no help, as he just seemingly indulged Soap in his behaviour, cooing at the Scotsman that he was just so needy. The only thing that kept you from smacking Ghost was the fact that he was driving, and the fact that you had your entire shaft buried inside Soap.

Soaps words were a slurred mixture of familiar and unfamiliar words, one of his boot covered feet flailing a little before he got it settled on one of the back seats, which opened him up further. You could tell from the stretching of his thigh muscle that this was gonna ache tomorrow, but you had a feeling he would like that.

The windows of the car were quickly growing foggy from the heat your bodies gave off, the dip of Soaps spine growing wet from his sweat as you used the back of his shirt to move him back and forth, after he became a bit more agreeable. You could see how he was panting in the mirror of the front window, his eyes fluttering and tongue hanging slightly out his mouth.

Maybe it was adrenalin too, or something else, but some part of him looking like that just made you want to hit him, so you did, giving him a hit much harder than the first had been before you began. He clenched up so tightly you wanted to bite him for it, but instead you just clenched your jaw until it ached.

You didn’t have to be an expert to know that hed spilled all over the floor of the vehicle, the military vehicle, mind you. That didn’t stop Soap from throwing his hips back again, his words still slurred as he panted and begged for you to fill him, to breed him like the pathetic bitch he was.

Hearing those words made you almost stop, because where did that come from. The groan from Ghost gave you a hint though, so instead of asking you just kept going, until you felt the simmering feeling inside. Gripping the back of his mohawk, you wrench his head back and make him arch further than before, making sure to keep him wound as a bow as you spilled inside him like he so clearly wanted.

Flopping back in your seat only gave you relief for so long, yet it also gave you the nice view of Soap clenching around nothing and shuddering. It was truly on you, thinking it would be over after only one round. There was still a couple of hours left of the drive, and Ghost seemed tempted to just pull over to join in on the fun. But sooner rather than later, you had Soap clambering back into your lap, pupils blown, and face flushed, looking ready to go again.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

your shark mer 141 and mer remora fic is one of the only things keeping me sane during finals week so please please please dump all of your thoughts on us because your writing style is so good and i can’t get enough!!!!!!!

thank you!! i sincerely hope finals are going/did go well for you! you should treat yourself with a little something if/when you're finished :)

and the shark mer 141 are always happy to be of service <3

37 / 1k / part 2 of shark mer Ghost tolerating remora mer reader

...

"But I'm fine!"

“You’re not. Look at you. You’re half-asleep.”

You’re not tired, you’re hungry. You shift against him, listless and unable to voice your needs. It's not that you're unwilling to do so--it's that you can't. It doesn't occur to you. Your kind doesn't survive by acting needy around a host.

Ghost notices your silent resistance. You’re weak--too tired, too hungry, too used to taking care of yourself--and still stubborn enough to keep your mouth shut anyway. He bites back a growl of irritation. It would be easier to fight. At least then he could shout it out of you. But no--instead you’re a tired lump in his hand, and your silence doesn’t give him anywhere to push back.

He's got one arm looped around you and both of your hands grasped in one of his. He only carries you like this, holding you by the wrists, when you accompanying him isn't up for debate. When you're being particularly fussy about it, he drags you by the wrists as if your arms were leads.

You don't relish that thought right now. You finally just bow your head, tucking it against his chest in submission.

He feels the change in your body language when you surrender to his control. He notices the way you go almost limp against him. Good. That almost puts the hungry, prowling animal in him to rest. Almost.

It’s a hard thing to explain--the gnawing dissatisfaction he felt watching you comb through the sand, small and alone on the ocean floor. The protective, possessive feeling that took root in his stomach.

It made him want to bite you all over. Not just to punish you, but to warn any other lurking thing who might confuse your loneliness for attainability. Not that he'd ever express the impulse to do so.

"Are you coming back to hunt again?" you ask him.

“Why? Do you miss me that much?”

You huff. "You didn't eat enough."

His fingers tighten around your wrists. You either have an inappropriate sense of humor or no self-awareness whatsoever.

“You're in a mouthy mood, huh?” he remarks tersely. “Must be even more tired than you look.”

He’s not stupid. He knows why you invited yourself along on his hunting trip. But he’s not going to coddle you while you shy away from the issue.

He glances up towards the coral reef, considering. If he brings you straight home, you'll just go back to ignoring your obvious needs. But he won’t let you wander the sea floor like some starving bottom-feeder. And he knows better than to hunt for you—you always refuse fresh kills.

The ones Ghost offers, at least. You seem willing enough to take fresh kills from Gaz.

Pisses him off.

You open your eyes when Ghost changes course and heads for a small cove carpeted in sandbanks. He dumps you unceremoniously into the soft sand. You look around, then at him.

"Stay right here." His tone brooks no argument. He swims off with an irritated lash of his tail before you can ask him why. You're left alone, moonlight curling across the surface of the water far above you and across the sand at your fins. Watching it makes your eyelids grow heavy.

You wake with a start when he returns. He holds in one clawed hand a fish. A live one.

He comes to rest on the edge of the sandbank. He doesn't speak, merely watching with a critical eye as you shake the sand from your scales and rouse yourself back into full consciousness. Then he holds out the live fish to you.

"Eat."

You frown but reach for it. Right as you lay your hands on it, it darts away. You jump in surprise, but one look at Ghost's face tells you he expected exactly that to happen. He can’t stop a small, satisfied smirk from curving his lips. That was exactly the reaction he wanted, and now you’re staring at him with six different accusations on the tip of your tongue.

His eyes fix on you with that smug, condescending look in his gaze. "Didn't Price teach you how to hunt for yourself?"

"Yes," you snap. You push yourself off the sand and dart after the fish, catching nothing but water again.

“Clearly not well.”

You strike out again. And come up empty. Again.

He huffs a laugh. You turn on him. "What's the point of this? You're the one who was going hunting."

He leans back, propping his weight on his elbows as he eyes you. Every failed lunge and dart bring him more satisfaction. "The point is that you should be able to feed yourself," he retorts. "You're too dependent, sweetheart. You’d starve in a koi pond."

You’d love nothing more than to tell him where exactly he can shove his stupid fish, but it’s far too mentally taxing for you to refuse outright. Instead, you cross your arms in a way that just as clearly says I'm not doing that.

Ghost’s eyes glimmer. He isn’t having it.

He pushes himself off the sand and swims toward you, pushing you back against the bank when he crowds himself over your smaller frame.

"You know” —his expression is downright patronizing— “refusing an order is a bad move. Bad things happen to disobedient pets."

"It didn't sound like an order," you mutter, avoiding his eyes.

He grabs your jaw and forces eye contact. "Sure as hell wasn't a suggestion, sweetheart. If you're not gonna ask for food when you need it, you're gonna learn to hunt." His eyes are hard, and that smug, self-satisfied demeanor is buried far underneath. "You learn or I make you learn. What do you say?"

You swallow. "Thank you for catching me such a nice practice fish?"

"Good pet." He releases your jaw.

He moves back onto the sand, propping himself on his elbows once more as he leans back. His black eyes linger on you, and you feel a chill.

"Now go."

...

part 1 / [part 2]

more mer au / more Ghost / masterlist tag

[party-snake]

First-aid

Sebastian x Fem! Reader

I highly suggest you play Pressure before reading this.

While hiding from Pandemonium, you get pretty scratched up. Sebastian patches you up.

Tw: Fear, blood, Near death experience, Almost fainting, Slightly suggestive(?), Praise

❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀

"Good, more data for Sebastian." You smile, picking up the files and putting them in the pouch he gave you. Peeking in the last desk drawer, you take the last usb drive you can find. "Okay, door 49. I hope Sebastian is around." Heat slow creeps to your face as you think of the sassy fish. 895 data sounds like just enough for a flashlight and a few other things.

You giggle lightly and walk towards the door. It slides open and immediately the lights begin to flicker. Fear sinks into your heart with it's metal claws and you dash for the nearest locker. That noise of the lights triggers your fight of flight, having done this so many times. Waiting a bit for the Angler to come, your thoughts are interupted by an ear piercing screech.

Pandemonium's gaping mouth is visible from the other side of the room and you jump, opening the locker and slamming the doors shut. It's presence is immediately clear as it stares you down from just outside the locker. You hold the doors shut as it slams into the locker, desperately trying to get to you. The gross sounds of the decomposing monster just outside the metal walls almost makes you gag.

The only sound you can hear is your own heartbeat as it rams into the doors. You look down and gasp as part of the locker has bent in on itself. 'Shit.' You mentally curse, knowing you only have seconds before the locker comes apart from the stress. It's eyes pierce into your soul, death staring you directly in the face.

Part of the metal comes apart, slicing into your right leg. Screaming bloody murder as the metal cuts through your leg like a knife through butter. The creature growls and gives up, leaving you bloody and sweaty. Your vision goes spotty as your arms release their death grip on the handles.

You start falling forward, the locker door swinging open. The concrete floor does nothing to cushion your fall as you make contact with it's cold embrace. Your arm takes the brunt of the fall and you groan in pain, flipping over slightly to assess the damage.

The metal of the locker is curved inwards slightly, your blood still visable on it. Your uniform is ripped from the ankle to half way up your thigh. It had taken most of the damage, but it still hurt like hell. It was definitely going to leave a scar. One to add to the pile.

You shakely get up, using a desk to steady yourself. Accidentally putting pressure on the sliced leg, you whimper. '050' the next door reads. Your vision is spotty as you cover your eyes with one hand. Your brain must be tricking you into thinking those are the eyes of the Eyefestation.

You hobble your way to the door and it slides open. An industrial light points towards a vent and you breath a sigh of relief. It flings open and his deep voice calls out to you. "Got something for you. Come here." You chuckle and limp towards the vent, getting on your working three limbs and army crawling your way towards him.

Your head peeks out from the vent opening and his light flickers on. "I just knew it would be you. Welcome back hun." He chuckles, as arms swinging out dramatically before he clasps his hands in front of him. "Hi Seb." You smile. Continuing out of the vent, your leg dragging behind you. "Woah, what happened there?" He gasps. "Um, Pandemonium." You put a hand behind your head.

"Now that won't do." He leans down and picks a first aid kit off the table. "Sit down right there. Don't move." Confusion is written all over your face as you do as your told, sitting down and trying not to put any unnecessary pressure on your leg. He flops down infront of you, one arm holding him up, the other holding the first aid kit. "Poor thing. You must've been so scared."

His hand comes up and caresses your cheek. You lean into it and sigh, nodding silently. His other arm lifts him up, wrapping around your waist and taking him with you. "You're extremely lucky I was right here." He chides, though his tone holds no actual venom. He sighs and leans back, placing you on his tail. You look back and notice his whale end blocking the vent entrance.

"Let me see that leg sweetheart." Leaning back, trying your best to lift it up, he gently grasps it in his clawed hand. His other hand trails up your leg and comes to the top of your pants. A small gasp escapes your lips and you whimper.

"Such a pretty noise. Can I take these off darling?" His voice is low and seductive, teasing, almost. Your cheeks flare up and you nod. "Good girl." He goes slow, taking off the pant leg on your non-injured side before switching to the next. As he begins peeling it off your leg you whine.

The tight swim suit rubs against your cut and you bite your tongue to avoid crying out. "Almost done love. Such a good girl." You look away, trying not to focus on his words. That proves difficult though. He pulls it the rest of the way off and discardes it beside him. "So. How did it cut you this badly?" He lifts your leg up slightly, investigating the cut. "The locker I was hiding in was broken a little bit. The metal cut me."

He tsks. "You should be a little more observant next time, you could be infected." He grabs the bottle of alcohol and applies it on a pad, wiping your cut. It stings, but not to badly. Must be the adrenaline. The guaze comes next, his hands wrapping them around the cut. Spots of blood peek through the gauze and he secures it with medical tape.

"There you go." He sets your leg down and you straddle his tail. "Thanks Seb. How much will that be?" You giggle. "Hm. 1,000 data." You laugh. "That's funny Seb." His hands wrap around your waist. "Oh no. I wasn't joking." Your giggles die out and you stare up at him. "Really?" His eyes are serious as he smiles down at you. "Really." You stare down. "I don't have-" His laughs cut you off.

"Come on love, you'd really think i'd charge you for that?" He wipes and imaginary tear and you flush with embarrassment. "I-I should get going." You say, and he hums. "Nope. You're not going anywhere." You huff. "But the crystal-" He silences you with a kiss. "The crystal can wait my love. You need rest." He booped your nose.

You looked away and thought for a moment. "Alright. But only for a few minutes." He nods and you lay down on his chest. Your eyes flutter shut as his voice lulls you to sleep. "Sweet dreams hun."

I decided to make another one sense you guys really loved the last one I made. The next one will be smut for you horny people. Stay tuned...

[cherry-leclerc]

thinking of her ☆ cl16

genre: angst, marriage trope

word count: 1.8k

You and Charles take a visit to marriage counseling.

inspired by this !

req!... had some free time to write so thought i would work on a request i just got! short one, but i hope you enjoy :)

“Tell me why you’re both here.”

The room is silent and slightly cold. A large canvas hangs right in front of you as you take time to pretend you care about the family painted on it. Part of you actually does.

“Well, she thought it would be a good idea to drag us into this.”

Your eyes flicker to Charles and you would only hope that he could tell that you weren’t impressed by his answer. It was true, it was your idea to go to couple’s counseling, but only because you cared. You cared a lot. Sometimes you thought for sure he didn’t anymore.

“What made you take the initiative?”

You wanted to burst with anger. To prove to her that this wasn’t completely your fault. He wasn’t perfect, he tested your patience and despite it all, you still loved him enough to try and salvage your marriage. 

Your therapist stares back, pen ready to scribble possible solutions as if her words would really make a difference. Maybe, deep down, you didn’t like being here either, but you wanted to prove to Charles how he’s been a shit husband. 

You wanted someone to back you up.

Taking a deep breath, you play with your wedding band. The one that you would normally admire, but now just felt like pure suffocation. “He’s given me plenty of reasons to not trust him the way I once did and now I sit here like a fool thinking he might change.”

The way her pen glides is something you hate. 

Looking back up, she takes a moment to analyze the couple. Charles sits with a blank expression, as if he really did have somewhere better to be. In his mind, he did. Then, there was you. Regardless of your words pouring with pure vexation, your body language displayed something else. 

Your eyes were sad and tired. She easily noticed the way your hand would want to reach out to Charles, but would quickly grip tighter to your lap.

“Please, if you don’t mind, would you care to explain.”

You press your lips together. “I first noticed a difference two years into our marriage.”

-

“Chicken or fish?” 

It was Charles’ day off from work in a long time and you were currently on a call with Pascale trying to figure out what to surprise him with. He always raved about how much he loved when you cooked for him. 

“Fish. You guys were over yesterday and I made grilled chicken, remember?”

You hum as you get into your car and start driving to the market, though the conversation is cut short when you finally reach your destination. Walking through the aisle, you decide it would be a fine idea to grab some wine you both love. 

“Charles?” The brunette looks up, red wine in his hand as you smile a bit confused. “What are you doing here? I thought you were playing padel with Lorenzo.” 

“I was! Finished the game early and thought I would grab us some, uh—” Stepping closer, he kisses you and takes the kart. “Shopping for dinner?”

“Thought it’d be nice…” You look at the bottle and yes it’s red, but it's not the kind you both like. “Honey, you got the wrong one.” A panicked look flashes his face before he lets out a nervous laugh.

Of course! I’ll change it right now.

-

“It only took a couple more slip ups for me to find out.”

The therapist nods as her attention turns to Charles, where he plays with his bracelets. “And what made you stay?” You want to laugh. Are we just going to spend time on me? She shakes her head. “We’ll get to him, I just want to hear from you first.”

“After I confronted him he swore he’d stop seeing her. I guess it was my fault for even believing him.”

-

“Amour!”

He runs into the living room, kitchen, basement, everywhere. Breathing hard, he looks around the house as if the furniture will give up and tell him where you are. A loud thud echoes from upstairs. Two steps at a time, he darts quickly to the bedroom. His heart stops when he sees you packing a suitcase.

What are you doing?

You don’t answer. Don’t even spare a passing glance. Instead, you slip the gold band off your finger as you throw it behind you. It only falls a few steps in front of him. He picks it up as he makes his way to you. “I’m so sorry.”

Your back faces him, but you don’t dare make a single sound. You curl your hand against the dress you were folding, bite hard on your lip to not let out a single sob. But your chest hurts, your tears feel like acid against your skin, and you’re almost thankful for pain like that, that way what Charles did wouldn’t be the only thing that hurt.

He makes his way to kneel down in front of you as you stare down at the carpet. You had begged him only a few days ago to put down the deposit on it and for a while he said it wouldn’t be financially responsible, but later agreed. You hated it now.

“Why? Just…why?”

He’s far too embarrassed to even come up with an answer. “I don’t know.”

When you finally look up at him, he sees what he’s caused. Your eyes are bloodshot, your nose is rosy. Cheeks are so bright pink, it almost looked as if someone pinched them. 

You let out a wet laugh as you drop your hands against your lap. “You know, when I woke up this morning and you were gone I thought to myself—Wow! What did I do to deserve a husband who wakes up early enough to get me breakfast on my birthday? And I waited. And waited. But whatever. That’s fine! He probably got busy. Then, Pascale called to confirm if we were still going out for dinner, to which I said, ‘Yes! Of course!...Yes, the gold bracelet! It was beautiful, thank you for helping him pick it out.’ I thought it was sweet, I did, but you never came. And again, the presents are not what mattered, but it was you. I texted you. I called you. I told myself you were probably too busy planning something sweet the way you always did. They all asked where you were and I had to lie and tell them you were going to be late. Do you know how stupid I felt when I saw you and her enter the restaurant holding hands? And then what did I do? I purposefully had you see me run out so you could chase after me, so that your family would never find out about your…fling.”

Charles keeps bowing his head lower and lower almost as if to hide from his mistakes.

“...So where’s my bracelet, huh? Because you got it for me for my birthday, right?” Extending your hand out hurts because you know deep down it was never for you. 

“I don’t have it…” You click your tongue as you retract your arm. Of course you don’t, you seethe. With all your strength, you stand with wobbly knees as you start to walk away. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

And he should feel relieved, but instead he feels like a complete asshole. How could he ruin things with his wife who swore to love him with all her being? He knew you well enough to know that you always will and he couldn’t let that go. He would fix this.

He runs to the door to close it. Move, you spit out. He shakes his head as he hugs you. 

“S-stop,” you say in a shaky voice as warm tears begin to flow once more. “It’s okay, just let me go…”

You go stiff when you realize he’s crying into your neck. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…He just keeps repeating it and you can’t stop yourself from hugging him back. He loved you and you loved him. That’s all that mattered.

“Just don’t do it again, okay?”

-

“So he cheated: you forgave him. He put her first and your marriage second.”

You flinch at her words because they only remind you how true they are. For a while, you thought you could both get over it, but you never really did. Not when you were already both standing on opposite sides of the road.

“Mom always did say I always saw the best in people.”

“And you…” Charles gulps. “What made you fall into an affair?”

Months ago, when you first found out, he didn’t have any answer to that question. But he did now.

“I wasn’t smart enough to appreciate my wife.” He looks at you as you avoid eye contact because you know the moment you looked into his eyes, you would fall all over again.

But you still did.

His eyes are sorry, you could tell, and the way his hand makes his way to you is enough for you to grow warm despite the cold room. 

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes - I know that - but none of them could compare to what I did to us. For putting you through so much doubt…For making you think I didn’t love you, but I always did.”

You're crying now as you nod because this is all you ever needed to hear.

“If this was the bump in the road that we had to overcome to grow closer then I accept it because I love you too, Charles. It’s about time you realized that.”

-

Charles feels lighter, happier. Now that he gets to hold your hand after many fights, he’s reminded about all the things he loves about you. But nothing could have prepared him for you to let go of his hand.

“I want a divorce.”

He’s stunned. W-what? We just decided that we were fine, that we were moving on…

You shake your head as you laugh. “My apologies, God, did I make you believe a lie? Feels awful, doesn’t it?”

He furrows his brows as he tries to reach out for you but you keep stepping further back. “Back there you almost had me…You said, ‘...none of them would compare to what I did to us.’ Us. Did you suffer? Did you spend countless, empty nights, crying yourself to sleep wondering what you did wrong? No, because it was all me. It wasn’t what you did to us, it's what you did to me.” You spin your ring one last time before slipping it off and placing it in his hand. He wants to say something to make you change your mind, to oversee his past mistakes one more time, because he swore to himself it would be the last time. But he could tell you’ve made up your mind. You twist your heel, ready to walk away before taking one last look into his green eyes you once loved.

“And the baby is getting my last name.”

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi!

I love your writing and I have a small (really small more of a blurb) request for Jace, like a small scene between him and reader like we had last episode between him and Baela but I’d love to see how Jace feels about Harwin not just what he remembers of him but like what he feels about being a bastard and if he cares (or cared) for harwin, I’d love to see him trust the reader enough to really get into his feelings about being a bastard bc that’s definitely something that really affects him but it’s never vocalized yk? And I’d love to see the reader comfort him and tell him that harwin absolutely loved them BC HE LOVED THEM SO MUCH 😭😭😭

Thank u sm!!!

Request: Jace and Dornish reader talking about fathers and her asking about Ser Harwin like Baela did.

Warnings: mention of character death (past),

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

A letter came by raven from your father. It was a long way from Dorne, you didn’t receive them often. You thought it would brighten your day after the horrifying news and accusations about your Queen that came from King’s Landing, but instead it made you sad. To see his handwriting, to hear the words in his voice — in your head. 

You missed him — and your mother. 

Dragonstone was your home now. It was Jacaerys’ inheritance as heir. It’s where you would raise your children and spend your life until it would be his turn to take the Iron Throne. 

The sound of waves crashing against the rocks brought you to the beach. You sat on the sand, watching the waves ride up the shore. It was the only part of the island that connected to Dorne. You missed swimming in the gardens, the feeling of the warm sun on your skin, the fruits that grew. 

‘’You missed supper,’’ the voice of Jacaerys informed, coming from behind you. 

‘’I wasn’t hungry.’’ 

You heard his footsteps on the damp sand, accompanied by the sound of his sword rubbing against his breeches as he walked. 

‘’I don’t think anyone was, really. Too many empty seats.’’ He dropped down onto the sand beside you, and nudged your shoulder. ‘’Have you seen any whales?’’ 

You turned and gave Jacaerys a look. ‘’Whales?’’ you repeated. ‘’There is no whales here.’’ 

He laughed, well aware and only jesting. His jests usually made you smile, but a sad pout was etched on your face. ‘’What’s on your mind?’’ he asked, placing a hand on your knee. 

‘’I received a letter from my father.’’

‘’Your father?’’ Jacaerys’ smile dropped slightly, now replaced by a concerned look. ‘’Is everything alright?’’  

You gave him a small nod. ‘’Yes. All is well. I just…miss him dearly.’’ 

A quietness fell between you. The salt-laden breeze rustled through your hair as you fought the tears brimming your eyes. 

‘’What do you remember of your father?’’ you asked, breaking the silence.

‘’He taught us to catch fish. And sing sailor shanties,’’ Jacaerys said, a grin tugging at his lips and his eyes brightening with fond recollections.

You chuckled, the sound mingling with the rhythm of the waves.

‘’He had a weakness for cake,’’ he added. 

‘’And…Ser Harwin Strong?’’

Although you agreed to turn a blind eye, you knew the truth of Jacaerys’s true parentage. He bore the name ‘Velaryon’, but there was no Velaryon blood in him. 

Jacaerys stiffened at the mention of Ser Harwin, having not heard his name in so long. His mother never spoke of him after they returned from Laena’s funeral.  

‘’He was gentle. And fierce,’’ he finally said, his eyes meeting yours. There was a veil of sadness in them, missing the man who left too soon. ‘’They called him ‘Breakbones’.’’

You laughed softly, and Jacaerys mirrored you. It felt good to talk about Ser Harwin. 

‘’He loved us,’’ Jacaerys continued, his voice quieter, almost unsure. ‘’I think.’’ 

‘’Of course he did,’’ you quickly reassured, covering his hand on your knee with yours. ‘’When did you suspect he was your father?’’ 

‘’A part of me always knew he was our father,’’ he admitted, his eyes distant as he recalled his memories. ‘’He was always looking out for Luke and I in the training yard, and making sure we would behave around Mother. He taught me how to hold a sword, how to strike my opponent.’’ 

He paused, a particular moment sparking his mind. 

‘’One day, he defended me in the training yard during an unfair match: me against Aegon. Aegon was taking his anger out on me and playing foul while Ser Criston turned a blind eye. Ser Harwin noticed Aegon’s tactics and pulled me aside to give me advice, but Aegon was older and stronger. He kicked me to the ground and angrily swung his wooden sword at me. Ser Harwin intervened, taking Aegon away from me.’’

‘’He was protecting you.’’

Jacaerys nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. He remembered the fight against Criston Cole that followed. The fight that got Ser Harwin dismissed from the City Watch and sent to Harrenhal. He also remembered the horrible news he woke up to days later: Lord Lyonel Strong and his son, Ser Harwin Strong, had died in a fire.  

Being from Dorne, you had never met Ser Hawrin, but he sounded like he was a good man, a devoted father. 

‘’What did he look like?’’ 

‘’He was tall with broad shoulders. He was the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms,’’ he said, his voice tinged with pride. ‘’He had dark curls and eyes—’’

‘’Like you,’’ you interjected with a soft smile. 

The dark curls that framed his face were the first thing you noticed when he stepped down his dragon in Dorne. As he got closer, his eyes caught yours and his stern face lit up, mesmerized by your Dornish beauty. Before he spoke a word to your father, you were already scheming your way into his heart — and breeches.

Jacaerys smiled, a faint reflection of his father in his expression. ‘’Like me.’’

‘’He would be proud of you. Of the kind and honorable man you’ve become.’’ 

Your words made his cheeks flush, the color deepening as you reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He was so beautiful. Your hand lingered on his cheek, your thumb gently caressing his lightly freckled skin. 

He drew in a breath and looked down. ‘’I miss him.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard@domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios@lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale@mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron  @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit

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[the-californicationist]

Brisance (1/2)

When Johnny MacTavish finds the woman of his dreams, he didn't expect her to be strapped with ten pounds of C-4... but he kinda likes it. Or: How Johnny MacTavish learned to stop worrying and love the bombmaker...

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2

Brisance

— August —

Ghost sighed, knocking his bootheel on the edge of the desk where he was perched, smoking his last cigarette, and scrolling through Reddit threads, bored to death and letting everyone know about it. 

“I can hear ye, Ghostie. I’ll jus’ be a wee bit longer,” Johnny called out over his shoulder. 

His masked lieutenant sighed audibly. He thought Soap looked ridiculous in that lighted, magnifying headset, the plastic lenses making his big blue eyes look like saucers. The sergeant had been hunched over an inert explosive device and its mechanical guts for the better part of four hours now, inspecting every inch of the thing, commenting on technical mambo jumbo that Simon hadn’t ever heard - or cared - about. Bombs were not his forte. He knew how to set one, and he knew how to avoid them, but that was about it. 

Soap let out a low whistle of admiration, and Ghost rolled his eyes, knowing some brainy quip was coming next about the “detonation velocity” or the “elastomer bonding” or whatever demolitionist jargon he was moved to speak on. 

“Innit tha’ the bonniest thing there ever was, mate?” Johnny crooned, sounding like a proud father. 

“Does this one kill us real special-like?” Ghost snarled, tired of Soap’s preening exploration of this device.

“You dinnae understand, LT. This is… well, it’s the bloody Mona Lisa of IEDs.”

“Come off it.”

“No, I’m serious. Come see,” Johnny moved his chair over to show off the open, black box where the device’s innards were housed, pointing to a series of tightly-strung wires and cables, “Ye ken how the last one cut through three layers of concrete at the Kadurin silos?”

“Aye,” Simon sauntered over, peering into the mess of wires, trying to divine what his sergeant was seeing.

“See this block here? It would take ten times the RDX to get a high enough brisance to pound through all three layers at once,” Soap sounded like a kid at Christmas, “But, look at how this bastard staggered his fuse layers. He used a visco fuse, cut it like a flying fish, and only had to send one electric match to charge it! Bloody fuckin’ brilliant.”

“English, MacTavish,” Ghost groaned, “Please…”

“This wee box survived because it contains the initial housing, but the bomb itself was in the fuckin’ room, not the detonation package.”

The lieutenant furrowed his brow, taking one last drag of his cigarette, and begging Johnny to clarify,

“So, you’re sayin’ that the bomber was in the cafe before the device was planted?”

“Aye,” Johnny’s eyes got even wider, comical when set behind his magnified lenses, “And tha’s not it. They made this box to last. Someone is sendin’ us a message.”

“What does it say?” Ghost looked back into the wires, expecting them to spell out H-E-L-L-O or F-U-C-K-O-F-F. 

“I dinnae ken. Not yet. But, I think he left me a clue.”

“A clue? The fuck…”

“See this? This is a visco fuse alright, but it’s Cordtex, and its got traces of collodion.”

Johnny was waiting on the edge of his seat, buzzing with anticipation, praying for Ghost to have the same, nearly-orgasmic eureka moment that he was. And yet, bored dark eyes glared down at him, waiting for the punchline. So, Soap gave it to him,

“He’s makin’ these from scratch. And,” Soap ripped off the headset and stared down into the box in amazement, “I think he’s a Brit. He could’ve just used any old visco fuse, but he didn’t. He went bloody far out of his way to make these, and I wonder…”

The headset slid back on and Johnny returned to the device, picking around the mechanisms like a dog hunting for a treat, sniffing his way around for anything to chew on. 

“British,” Simon hummed, “Hm, I’ll tell Cap. Maybe he can get Laswell to send it off for testing.”

Soap didn’t respond. As Ghost left the room, he called back over his shoulder, 

“Don’t stay up all night, Johnny. Got PT at 0430.”

“Mm-hm…” Soap replied, not bothering to look up when Ghost finally made his exit, too busy making eyes at his one true love: a beautifully crafted bomb. 

— October — 

The ticking was the worst part, but as he stared down into the blackness of a rigged, plastic tote, Johnny almost wished he would have something to keep him company, even some of that infernal ticking sound that should be happening. But, it wasn’t. The room was silent like the grave, and if Johnny made one wrong move, it would become his own. 

A voice crackled through his headset,

“Five minutes, thirty seconds.”

Gaz was keeping count for him, checking in at regular intervals, his voice trembling from the stress. Johnny wished he wouldn’t worry. This was a timebomb, yes, but it needed input. Someone was waiting for something, and if he could figure out what, maybe he could stop it.

“Aye, any movement from overwatch?”

A short pause and then his lieutenant’s voice came through, 

“Negative.”

This bomb was truly a piece of work. There was no indicator, and in fact, no traceable fuse. All of the ignition was internal to the RDX modules, and there were eight of them altogether, each with its own unique housing. Johnny had disarmed five of the eight, and he was working on number six as quickly as he could. 

The bombmaker had a great deal of skill, but so did Soap, and it was less of a race than it was a fluid, complicated, one-sided conversation. With every choice in material and fuse design and chemical agent, the bombmaker was telling Johnny all about himself. 

The Semex block and guncotton in housing three, wrapped in flash paper and copper-coated fuse links? This bloke had access to high-quality chemicals. The wooden housing and saltpeter dusting in number five? When he didn’t have access to those high-quality chemicals, he was resourceful enough to know how to make do without them. The way the fuse line lay independent from the center of each housing, and yet initiated from different grafting points? Making bombs was more than just a hobby. The bastard was designing these devices like challenges, giving Johnny puzzle after puzzle, testing his abilities. 

Soap should have been angry, but he wasn’t. In fact, this particular model of IED hadn’t taken a single life. The bombed buildings were strategically placed against Makarov’s forces, almost as if this terrorist was on a mission of rebellious freedom. The Russian oligarch’s people were fighting back against their own leader, rejecting his authority. This was the work of a highly intelligent man out for justice, not a simple murderer. 

Johnny had spent the last two months discovering more and more about this particular insurgent, and now that he could see the pattern of his behavior, Soap was more likely to label him as a true freedom fighter. Laswell didn’t seem to care about labels, but Johnny felt like he almost had the captain convinced. 

“This might be someone we could pull to our side, Cap’n,” Johnny had suggested.

“Just make sure you end the day with all your fingers still fuckin’ attached, lad. How about that?” Price had sniped, but it was toothless. Johnny knew he was starting to see the pattern, too.

Staring down at his hands, all ten fingers still hard at work, he marveled at the commitment to craft in everything from the fuses to the housing shells. The sergeant cut through blocks of C-4 in cubes six and seven before Gaz had given him a seven-minute warning. As he inspected housing number eight, Johnny almost felt disappointed that he and the maker of these bombs would never meet. The things he could learn from an artist like this… 

A green laser trembled and danced in front of his face, pointing directly to the bottom of the eighth block. Johnny’s eyes shot up, finding the source right away. Through the window, a cloaked figure crouched on the roof, dressed all in black, tucked behind an air vent, their eyes pinned to him as he gaped in disbelief. 

It was him. The bombmaker was here. 

“Overwatch, target at eleven o’clock, south rooftop, copy,” Johnny’s voice gave away their position, and as soon as he heard the confirmation from Ghost, his ears also picked up on a soft, almost delicate ticking sound. Gunshots popped wildly outside, and the bombmaker disappeared, his body lithe and quick, avoiding danger and leaving Johnny to die at the hands of his creation. 

As quick as he could, Johnny cut through the eighth housing, searching for the fuse. But, he came up empty. Then, he remembered where the laser had been pointing. He turned the dark layer over and saw a hole in the RDX material. On nothing but instinct, he cut down into it and hit something solid. The housing broke open to reveal a wristwatch. 

There was no fuse. And all of the other housings had been rendered inert, so there was no danger. 

Why would the bombmaker start the timer without anything to blow? Johnny’s mind swam with possibilities, and then he turned the watch over to inspect the back. Written in big, bold pen, Soap saw the letters JFM on the dull metal. His initials. John Fergus MacTavish. Not even Ghost knew his middle name.

Suddenly, Johnny heard more ticking. It sounded like a collection of clocks had just come to life. He dug around in the box, finding it empty, but he discovered the final clue too late. A small lip on the edge of the crate hinted at another layer of explosive material, hidden from plain sight.

“Shite! Fall back!” He shouted.

There was a false bottom, and when Johnny pulled it up, he discovered ten more tightly-packed Semex blocks that were fused up together with that same Cordtex line, ready to explode. All over the plasticine blocks, the letters JFM were cut into the material, recurring like an endless pattern. As he looked down at his initials littering the bomb he was trying to diffuse, his head swam with confusion. But, there was no time for that.

Johnny slammed the lid shut and bolted, running for cover. His legs burned as they hauled him out of the stone building, his feet sinking into the dirt and sand outside of the door. Soap could see the cover wall, and he dug in, using every bit of strength he had to reach it and scale it before he was just a stain on the dirt. He barely made it, and as he tumbled behind the sturdy wall, he could feel the searing heat of the blast on his back and legs. It felt like needles were stinging his skin; it was so hot. 

A few moments went by, and although the world was quiet for Johnny, he knew that was just the hearing loss. In fact, he understood that the reality was quite the opposite. As he looked up, he saw Price stomping over to him. The captain was yelling something, but his voice couldn’t reach his ears. All he could see was the bearded man hollering and carrying on with a wrathful look on his face. Then, bits and pieces came through. 

“... could’ve… killed… fuck.. thinkin’... Johnny?!”

Price tried again, pulling his sergeant up from the floor by his gear vest, 

“Do you hear me? What the fuck was that? Almost lost you, boy. Jesus Christ!” Captain Price sounded like he was underwater, but at least the words were coming through. 

“Sorry, sir. But, I needed to find the last clue,” Johnny held up the watch as if it was his well-deserved trophy.

“You were almost the last clue, you bloody idiot,” Price ran his hand through his hair and knocked his boonie hat onto his shoulders, totally exasperated. 

Soap knew he should feel guilty, or at least a little fearful, but everything was different, now. After the realization that the bombs were designed specifically for him, Johnny found himself actually looking forward to the next one. 

— November — 

The mission had gone sideways right from the start. Their comms had been nothing but staticky garbage while they were clearing out the Kotovo Blocs, trying their best to evacuate civilians while simultaneously managing Makarov’s squadrons. It was a crapshoot every time they opened another door. Half the time, a mother and her children rushed out screaming, and the other half, they were greeted by bullets. 

Even worse, they’d been separated by a particularly nasty collection of smoke-filled pipe bombs. It was nothing nasty, but it was enough of a hindrance that they’d lost formation. The plan was to regroup at an abandoned fueling station one klick southeast of their current position, and that’s where Johnny was heading. He tried to connect on comms again, but all he got was soft static. 

“Ghost, Gaz come in! Bravo-seven to Bravo-actual. Do you copy?”

No one replied. He was flying solo. His senses were on high alert, and all of his movements were carefully calculated, measured, and aligned to his new mission: survive.

Luckily, Makarov’s men had been retreating, and there was enough gunfire to scare off most of the civilians, but it was still a long way to the fuel station. 

Suddenly, in his ears, he heard a voice loud and clear.

“Bravo-seven, huh? I think we both know that’s not your name, soldier.”

Johnny’s mind reeled. It was a woman’s voice. She had a sort of blended accent, something he’d heard all of Laswell’s spies use so that no one would be able to tell where they were from. 

“Who is this?” He asked, checking his six and making sure to stay tucked below the window ledge. It would make moving through the bloc much slower, but if someone was in a sniper position, he couldn’t take any chances. 

“Mm,” she whined, “You wound me, Mr. MacTavish. I thought you’d know me by now, especially after I left you that little gift basket in Levin.”

Soap stopped in his tracks, whispering even though he was very much alone,

“It’s you…”

Her voice turned sinister,

“Vladimir is mine. Stay out of Kotovo. You’re too handsome to be in more than one piece.”

The noise in his headset went dead and he knew that she was gone. When he saw movement out of the corner of his eye – a flash of a black cloak, tattered and torn like a destitute comic book hero – Soap looked to the rooftop to find her. 

The moment his eyes met her face, she pulled back her hood to reveal her eyes, piercing and furious, and a full, pouting mouth. When she caught him gaping at her, crouching far out of cover and in a state of pure shock, her lips turned up into a slight smile before she jumped down the opposite side of the bloc building, disappearing into the pelting snow.

“... –vish! Co– … John– where ar– … Johnny!”

“LT?” Johnny tried to listen in to his comms, ducking back under the window and rushing out of the building, “I found her. In pursuit west north west to the docks.”

“What? Soap, we need to RV at the fueling st–”

“There’s no time! I cannae let her get away.”

“Wha’dya mean her?” Gaz asked, interrupting their back and forth, “The terrorist is a fuckin’ bird?”

“Aye,” Johnny panted, running flat out through the thick snowfall, chasing her across the parking lot of the bloc complex, “Bonnie as fuck, too.”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind, MacTavish?! Get the fuck back to RV. Tha’s a bloody order!” The captain demanded. 

“Aye, sir. Be there in two shakes.”

Johnny muted his mic and ignored the protests from the other end of the comm line. They were coming for him, predictably, so if things did go south, he knew he’d have some backup. 

Suddenly, just as his wee birdie was making her way down the main road to the docks, gunfire popped across her path. On instinct Johnny raised his weapon and returned fire, getting her attention. She peered over her shoulder at him, surprised that he was not shooting at her instead, and pulled her handgun to help him take down the small group of Makarov’s men who were advancing on their position. 

Enemy squads were in direct pursuit, and it was hard to tell if Soap or the bombmaker was their main target. It didn’t matter, in the end. Johnny took out the first squad in a matter of moments, barely reducing his speed to return fire, but there were two stragglers from the second squad, hidden behind a small electrical shed, popping off stray shots in her direction. 

He altered his course, but she stopped him in his tracks. She’d shot at the ground right in front of him, keeping him away from the shed. Soap slowed, but he changed back to his original path, not understanding her motive. It wasn’t until he saw a blinding, golden blaze of fire erupt out of the electrical housing and felt the shockwave of her bomb rattle around in his chest that he understood why she had stopped him. 

“Holy fuck…” he breathed.

Her teasing voice cut through his comms, silencing the chatter from the 141,

“Did ya like that, baby?”

Soap peeled his gaze away from the fiery explosion and found her perched behind a shipping container about fifty meters ahead of him. She was breathing hard, and her body was tense, but she was looking straight at him, a clever smile pasted across her mouth. 

He smiled back,

“Tha’ was bloody beautiful, lass.”

Then, her eyes left him, turning back to her path towards the boat slips, and her tone became resigned,

“You can’t come with me, soldier.”

The line went dark. She had cut his entire communication. He couldn’t even hear Price barking orders anymore. Soap peeled the buds out of his ears and let them hang down by his throat mic. Still, he pursued her. He wasn’t going to give up that easy. 

He was also gaining on her. She was trying her best to weave between shipping crates and huge piles of knotted ropes, but it was no use. He was faster, stronger, and by the time he was ten paces away, she knew she was caught. Suddenly, she ducked into a rundown storage building and disappeared into the room. 

Johnny followed right behind, ignoring his training to stop, assess, and plan his ingress. 

He came into a large, nearly empty room. At the far end, the ceiling was missing from the roof and it cast pale sunshine down into the open area. It illuminated two large wooden crates where his fiery little bird was sitting, waiting for him. The floor was covered in sand and snow, and he couldn’t see the boards beneath his boots. It was like there was no floor at all. The outside was inside, and the destroyed roof let in the wilderness where there should have been cold, clean civilization. 

Johnny stopped in his tracks, holding his gun at the ready position, staring up at her like she was the winged Nike, shaken by her power and amazed by her beauty. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. Her lips were pillowy and expressive, her eyes full of her sharp intellect, her body soft with curves yet heavy with muscle… to mix her stunning appearance with her phenomenal talent with demolition engineering seemed almost blasphemous. No one woman could be so perfect, and yet…

“You shouldn’t have come here.” Her voice was soft like rain, and it hit his skin in the same way, leaving little drops of its effect behind to remind him of it. 

“Why?” He asked, standing very still as if any movement might scare her off again. 

“I’m going to a place where no one ever comes back from. Alone. Vladimir Makarov killed my sister, and he has to pay for that. I will make him pay.” 

As she finished her explanation, she smiled in a sorrowful, resigned way, understanding that she was on a suicide mission but unwilling to change her course. 

“He will, bonnie. We willnae let him get away this time. You have my word,” Johnny promised her, earnestly. 

“My hero,” she teased. Then, after a short pause, she asked, “Do you have a sister, Mr. MacTavish?”

“Aye. Three wildlings, in fact,” he had taken no truth serum and yet it came pouring out of him anyway. 

“Bridgette, Maggie, and Jenny…” She reported back, “All older than you, right?”

Johnny’s heart stopped in his chest, 

“How’d you –”

“When a handsome, young, black ops soldier comes in and defuses a sixteen stage daisycutter that I designed myself, I make sure to learn a thing or two about him. And,” she unzipped her jacket and began to pull it off of her shoulders, “I also know that a man like that, a man with sisters… is not the kind of man who just gives up.”

“No, lass. I willnae give up. Let me help you. If we… oh, Christ,” Johnny watched in horror as she pulled the jacket the rest of the way off to reveal an intricately woven vest packed with explosives with perfectly laid Cordtex wires winding in and out of each of the housings, live and ready to blow. 

“Hands up!” Price’s voice echoed through the empty room as he, Gaz, and Ghost filled in the space behind their sergeant, guns pointed right at her, their red laser sights dancing on her chest like fireflies. 

Johnny held out his hand with the signal to halt, and everyone froze. She, however, slid off of the crate and walked over to him, little white flecks of snow sticking to her hair and cheeks, taking each step slowly and deliberately. As she got closer and closer, Soap could smell her sweat, heady and musky, and he could hear her breaths, hanging on each of her exhales like it was some heavenly edict, memorizing the pace of them like it would unlock all of the world’s many secrets, a passcode to the truth. 

She whispered, inches from his open mouth, 

“You can help me,” she put her hands on his neck, using her thumbs to rub against the scruff of his five o’clock shadow, letting the stiff hairs burn under her touch, “By staying the fuck out of my way.”

Despite the warning timbre of her voice, she was open and pliant for him, letting her lips hang open slightly, like she was expecting his kiss. Johnny leaned toward her, his mouth slotting across hers, tasting her on his tongue and moving his body into her space. He ignored the danger, well aware of the fact that she was strapped with enough Semtex to blow a city block into a dirty crater, and he kissed her deeply, as if they had been lovers for years, as if this was not their first touch. 

She stepped back, pulling away from him, and he took a step forward to follow. 

Click.

Time stopped. Johnny’s skin flashed hot and then cold, all of the adrenaline he had left flooding his system. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…” She chided him, backing away while he remained frozen in place, “Sit… stay…” Then, that same sad smile, “Good boy.” 

She climbed up on the crate and escaped through the hole in the roof before any of them could react to what had just happened. 

Captain Price gave an order to Gaz,

“Go after her!”

“No!” Johnny protested, “All of you, get the fuck out of this room. I stepped on a wee mine, and if I know her, this whole dock will be at the bottom of the bloody ocean the moment I lift my boot.”

Ghost came up behind him, shifting his feet carefully through the sand, searching for secondary devices. Then, he used his pneumatic tool to blow the snow away from Johnny’s left foot to reveal the device. 

“Well, she got you fair and square, didn’t she, Johnny? I’ll tell your mum you died a hero’s death,” there was a joking tone in Ghost’s voice that made Soap peer down at the toe of his boot. 

He had stepped on an empty soda can. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Johnny sighed, feeling the tingle of relief skitter through his limbs. 

Then, panic again as Price’s voice growled darkly behind him,

“I should send you on the first flight back to Glasgow with your papers in your fuckin’ hand, boy. What the hell are you doin’, MacTavish? You’ve got one fuckin’ chance to explain yourself before I replace you with a damn bomb robot. At least then I won’t have to write a letter home when he gets blown to bits.”

“I put a tag in her pocket, Cap��n. Should be able to watch her on the SAT-NAV now. She already mapped where Makarov’ll be next. I think we should help her.”

“What’s your deal with her? Are you…” Gaz asked, bewildered by his friend’s unusually careless behavior.

“I dinnae ken how to explain it, but I need to see this through.”

Price’s exhausted sigh was the only response he received, but Johnny knew that the silence was a form of assent. They would help him, and he would help her, if only he could get to her before she did anything too permanent.

Chapter 2

AO3 Link

[angel-eyes05]

a line drawn in red

pairing: wade wilson x fem!reader

summary: you and your across the door neighbor have a complicated relationship with each other. things only seem to grow more murky after you invite him to a work party to embarrass your ex.

warnings: nsfw mdni 18+, friends with benefits, mentions of oral sex, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up guys), angry sex at the beginning, very sweet and tender at the end, pre-mutation deadpool cause lowkey i need to see ryan reynold's face in my mind lol, fake dating idk its confusing, wade's a bit of a rebound for a little bit, ever so slight dirty talk, wade using stupid little cringey pet names, pansexual deadpool moments because i love my canon king, you can see my wade wilson headcanons LOUD AND CLEARRRR here rip

word count: 6.8k (this is my longest fic to date are you guys happy)

notes: heyyyyyy so funny story i was meant to post this in like july/august when deadpool and wolverine came out to jump on the trend buttttt i got really burnt out as soon as i got to the smut part of this and then dropped it....BUT I FOUND THIS AGAIN AND FINISHED IT SO WE'RE ALL GOOD this is gonna get zero interaction cause the trend is over but ykw idc i really like what i did here so i hope you enjoy lol. i also did not really proofread this i was too excited to post it lol

dividers by: @cafekitsune

Apartment searching was probably the worst part of the breakup. Which was saying a lot considering how hard you took his news. Raoul and you had been together for about 6 and a half years, and had even gone as far as to move in with each other. It seemed like a good trade off, considering how much the two of you would be saving on rent. And with his parents being filthy rich and owning about half the apartment buildings in Manhattan, the two of you picked a particularly nice one.

Life seemed to be sailing by on calm waters. You had finally moved out of your shitty apartment with your shitty roommate and in with the love of your life, Raoul's stiff parents seemed to finally be warming up to you. To top it all off, you had finally scored a promotion at work. Coming from a less than steady foundation as a child, moving up in your work was something you prided yourself on greatly. It didn't pay as much as Raoul's did, but you loved what you did, and were damn good at it. That was enough.

It never was for him though. Not for his reputation. Or better yet, his parents'. Which is exactly what caused the breakup. "You know how my mother is, she's never going to be happy as long as I'm dating someone with your background." The words still rang in your ears. Your background. The words tasted like rotten fish. Just as you thought he was getting ready to pop the question to you also. He had the decency to let you stay in the apartment until you found your own, but you could tell pity was the fuel behind that fire.

You wanted a place in the city, close to work, but that proved incredibly difficult. After what felt like years of looking at "fixer-uppers" and failed bargain attempts, you finally found one. Was it nice? No. It was a tiny studio, with the only room separate from the main area being a minuscule bathroom. The view was shit, the lights flickered like a disco, and it was a mission to get hot water. But it was a three minute walk from your work building and was the cheapest room you had found so far, so you decided to settle.

You kept to yourself the first week after you moved in, only really leaving to go to work and do your laundry. Your friends had begged you to go out and explore the city with them, but you couldn't seem to drag yourself out of bed. You had been so busy apartment shopping in the past few months that you forgot to do something: Mourn your relationship. The minute you placed down the last bowl in the cabinet, the waves of grief crashed on top of you instantaneously.

Would it have worked out if you came from money? You try not to think about how the answer is most likely yes.

One late night while you're wrapped up and crying in your bedsheets, you hear the first knock on your door since you've moved in. You instinctually bury yourself further in the covers, praying the knocking will stop and whoever's at the door will get bored and go away.

It doesn't.

With a groan, you mosey out of bed, throw on a pair of pants, and answer the door. Rubbing your eyes, you find yourself looking at your neighbor. You had seen him a few times in the hallway when you would take down your dirty laundry, but you didn't pay much attention to him. He seemed to be in and out of the building, which was probably why you didn't even know his name. He was pretty tall, had light brown hair that was just long enough to not be considered a buzzcut, and a little scar slashing across his right eyebrow.

"Listen, I know this is weird and I know we haven't even met properly yet, but my microwave short circuited and I've been looking forward to chowing down on this burrito all day and I think if I don't get to eat it, I'll genuinely go crazy and destroy this entire apartment building."

You had to be delirious or something, there was no way he was jumping out of the gate with his first introduction to you like this. But low and behold, he lifted up the tin foil wrapped burrito next to your face as evidence for his dilemma. "With the power of whatever sick fuck looking down on us from up there, can I PLEASEEEEEE use your microwave?" he downright begged.

You took about 15 seconds to just stare at him and comprehend what just happened. "And you thought I was the best person to ask for this? Not any of the other ten people who live on this floor?" you asked bluntly. He scoffed at you.

"Well, for your information missy, it's a pretty well known fact that most people are away in dreamville at you know, 2:30 in the morning. And I've had a habit of noticing you like to have your tv blaring around this time of night, while not many other people on this floor do. So, using my beautiful detective skills, I came to the conclusion that you're the only other person up right now. And guess what! I was right!" This guy was weird.

You groaned and rubbed your face. "And you know, how else was I going to find an excuse to finally introduce myself to the hot girl who just moved across the hall to me." You glared at his cheesy comment, while he flashed a fake smile and waved the burrito next to his face.

You sighed, knowing you'd probably regret this. "In and out," you said, moving out of the doorframe and letting him inside. "Oh my god if you had a dick I would suck it so good right now," he exclaimed as he rushed inside like a little school boy, making his way right to the microwave and popping in the burrito. You took a second to comprehend his comment. "Yeah yeah whatever," is what you decided to reply with, not having the energy to argue with the man.

You slopped down on one of the chairs placed at your kitchen island, and substitution for a table, and let your head rest on the table while you waited for the man to leave. He leaned against the countertop while he waited for his burrito. You could feel the vibrations of his fingers tapping against the counter. "What do you want," you groaned. "How long ago?" he asked, shortly. "What?" "How long ago did they dump you?" Your head shot up off the counter. "Excuse me?" He smirked. Almost like his goal was to piss you off. "You had a partner, probably guy, definitely long term, he was rich, you weren't, parents got in the way, and you got kicked to the curb."

Clocked you from a mile away.

The sounds of the beeping microwave echoed in the uncomfortably silent room.

"Get your food and get out." "Someone's not very hospitable," he snarked. You got off the chair, walked up to the man, and slapped him across the cheek. "You come banging on my door at 2 in the morning, don't even have the decency to introduce yourself, you use up my appliances, and then you flat out insult me?!?! Kicking you out is probably the nicest thing I could do right now!" you shouted. He turned his head back to face you, staring dead into your eyes. You weren't sure if you were frightened, infuriated, or turned on by his look.

"Let me show you a better time," he groveled into your ear. Jesus, why couldn't it be daylight outside.

In the day, you have control over yourself. The sun gives you a sense of clarity, almost like the light shines in on your brain and gives you the ability to make good decisions. During the night hours, you still know good from bad. It's just much harder for you to stop yourself from going the wrong way.

He must have heard the way your breath hitched, because you could hear the slight snicker he let out shortly after. He could see you were still debating it though. "Listen. This is up to you. But just so I can plead my case, you're one of the most beautiful people I've seen in my whole life, and I work around a lot of hotties, so thats saying something." "You're losing me, tiger," you cut him off. He stutters and regains his footing. "I'd hate to see someone as beautiful as you get thrown off their game cause of some jerk who didn't know what he had until he lost it. I've seen it too many times and I'd hate to see it happen to you too."

You lean in a little, ears perking up. "I personally think, I can give you a better time than he ever could. So, we're gonna do this. If I'm better than he was, you gotta promise me that you'll get back out there. Capeesh?" You closed your eyes and rubbed your bridge. He leans into your ear. "And if you like it enough, who knows, I'd be down to make this into a thi-." "Just let me think!" you push him off you. He backs up, grabs his burrito from out of the microwave, and starts munching.

This is stupid. This is so stupid. It had only been three months since you and Raoul finished, but you were so ready to get into bed with this basically stranger. You honestly just wanted him to stop bugging you. But all things considered, at least he was an attractive rebound. And he seemed to know the situation and what this meant. You just needed a distraction at this point. From everything, and especially Raoul. This was sure to do that. Besides, what did you have to lose? Definitely not your dignity.

You looked over to see him eating his burrito. God you were so pathetic, this was actually turning him on. The way his mouth was gently moving around it. You were getting wet just thinking about the way it would maneuver around your folds. Fuck. This was really your decision wasn't it. Made by the way a man eats his burrito. Pathetic.

"Fine." He looked up from his meal. "Just this once though," you added. "Yeah whatever, we'll see how you feel when we're done," he teased. You grabbed his arm and led him to your bed on the other side of the apartment. You slowly stripped off your pants and underwear, agreeing with him that you could keep your shirt on. The next hour or so was full of pure adrenaline and ecstasy. He knew how to press every single one of your buttons as his mouth worked wonders on your pussy. You had the unfortunate feeling that you would be seeing him again after this.

Once he finished another round on your clit, he wiped his mouth and stuck his hand out to you from in between your legs. "Wade Wilson. Apartment D05." You couldn't help but giggle at the silly gesture. You then stated your name and apartment number and shook Wade's hand. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Wilson." "Oh please, Mr. Wilson was my father, call me Wade. And the pleasure is all mine of course." He flashed a big smile when you giggled at his joke and dove right back into your pussy. The two of you kept going until the sun came up.

The two of you made an agreement after that night. If either one of you was sexually frustrated, lonely, or just plain horny, you two would go down on each other. Friends with benefits or something like that. Cause the two of you did talk to each other outside of sex too. Wade was a funny guy. He had his sweet moments too, despite being pretty brash. But man was he annoying.

He had a problem with never knowing when to shut up. This was a pattern during sex also. As more and more sessions went on, you noticed him becoming more and more vocal. Taking breaks to talk to your pussy while he would eat you out, striking up a conversation with you while you had a mouth full of dick. "Wade, I swear to God, if you want me to actually finish you off, you better shut the fuck up," you found yourself saying most nights, wiping his precum off your mouth. "Oh trust me sweetheart, women have left me hanging in worse situations," he would tease back.

Some nights you found yourself finishing off angrier than when you started. The two of you argued a lot. Mostly over dumb shit. Wade had a knack for pissing you off. Whether it was stealing things from your apartment, being too loud with the other people he would bring to his apartment, or just being plain forgetful with plans. Almost every outing to a club would end up with the two of you drunkly screaming at each other. But man, the way he would work on your swollen pussy with his tongue afterwards. You found yourself easily forgiving him move of the time. His argument was strong after all.

There was a set list of rules the two of you followed though. For boundaries sake. "We keep it to your apartment," he added as you wrote down details on a notepad. "Ugh, why mine?" you whined. "Cause mine's too dirty and I know your clean freak ass would have a heart attack upon seeing it." True, the way he talked about his apartment made it seem like a breeding ground for a STD. "And let me guess, you're too lazy to clean it up?" you jab back. "Hit the nail right on the head, darling!" he smiled sarcastically, taking a light swipe at your chin.

"Whatever, my turn. I don't want any you know...actual sex stuff." Wade raised his eyebrow. "What do you mean?" You shrugged your shoulders, a little embarrassed. "I don't know, just like...I'd rather stick to the oral stuff I guess." Wade couldn't help but snicker. "What, you scared my dick's too big to fit in it or something?" "No, asshole!" you shouted, bopping the top of his head with the notepad. "It just feels...too personal I guess," you said, beet red.

What Wade didn't know was that going that far was just too intimate for you right now. You already felt guilty enough getting into this "relationship" with this man you barely know after just getting out of an almost seven year relationship. You didn't want Wade to feel like some kind of rebound. Even if he kinda was. You weren't sure if he even cared though. For all you know, he was just happy to get some pussy.

"Whatever, your loss cupcake," Wade shook off. "Fine then, I get my own special condition." "Hit me," you said, sitting up. "No kissing." "What?!" you shouted. "That's so stupid, thats no where near the same level as mine! Mine is at least a little understandable!" "Hey, you have your reasons, I have mine," Wade argued. "Fine....You'll still kiss up on my pussy though, won't you Wade?" you asked, grabbing him by his shirt collar and pulling him in closer to you. "Well what else is it there for, certainly not for sticking my dick in," he teased. You gave his already erect dick a smack and dragged him down into you bed, taking off his pants for your next session.

The next couple of months looked exactly like this, with a few trauma dumps in between of course. This was comfortable. You were still getting action, but nothing too much or serious. And Wade was a good guy for you. Or for this at least. Sometimes you would sit and wonder if the two of you could, you know, become more than this. An actual couple. Wade was your best friend. Yeah, he was a little shit, but he had been there for you more than anyone else before. He understood where you came from, because he came from the same roots. Him being really hot helped too you know.

But you could never be sure if he felt the same way. You weren't sure if he was the type for an actual relationship. Yeah, your crush on him seemed to grow bigger with each passing day, but this was easier for the both of you. Not ideal. But again. Comfortable.

Things started to change really fast though when a certain instagram story crossed your feed. "That bitch!" Wade heard you shout while out at Weasel's bar. "What now, someone twist up your panties?" Wade sarcastically added. You flip your phone over him show to one of your work friends with her new boyfriend.

A fourth month anniversary hard launch. "No way, is that him?" He asked, picking up the clues quickly. You nodded silently. You had failed to mention your past relationships to your friend Clarissa, so she must have thought he was some stranger or something. You had no idea how they met and started dating, but Raoul had seemed to come back into your life as soon as he left it. And you knew for a fact you'd be seeing him soon.

"I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna do about this stupid party," you repeated to Wade as you paced your apartment floor, topless. Wade sat back on your bed, sipping on a beer bottle, his pants off. "He's definitely gonna be there, it's a Holiday party for God's sake! Everyone always goes to those stupid parties! And of course everyone goes with their partners so of course Clarissa is gonna bring him!" "And why do you have to go?" Wade asked calmly. You stopped pacing. "Because Wade my promotion basically lies in the hands of me making a good impression, which means going to every work function they've got. Valentine's Day dance, Thanksgiving dinner, and especially the Winter Gala," you recited.

You flopped on top of the bed in anger, letting out fake, annoyed sobs. Wade groaned, set his beer bottle on the nightstand, and lifted your face up with his two cupped hands. "If I go with you will that shut you up?" You stopped your fake tantrum and sat up. "Um, are you being serious with me right now?" He nodded. "Is that not asking too much? I mean like...I don't know if it's typical for someone to go to a work party with their friend with benefits," you brought up.

Wade cleared his throat. "Well, we don't have to tell anyone that. As far as your employers, and especially Raoul, know...we're dating." You sat to yourself and thought for a minute. It'd be nice to have someone accompany you to the torturous party. And plus, making Raoul jealous would be a bonus. "That wouldn't be too much? Like what about the whole no kissing thing, isn't it weird for a couple to not kiss?" you asked. "Hey, couples don't kiss all the time! And plus, we can still hold hands and stuff. Just the bare minimum. But I think it could work." He watched you as the smile grew more and more onto your face. You leaped into his arms, embracing him. "Oh, thank you thank you thank you Wade! You don't know what this means!"

Wade took a second, but he tightly wrapped his arms around your back and tightened the hug. "Anything for my favorite girl," he said quietly next to your ear. Neither of you let go for a while, taking each other in. For two people who had sex with each other about three times a week, this was the most intimate you had been. You could tell how serious it was by how quiet Wade was.

His breath was calm and steady, matching up almost perfectly to yours. Your head sat perfectly on the nook where his neck met his shoulders. But as soon as you begun to tighten your grip on him, he cleared his throat and let go. "I think I'm owed a good dick sucking for my good deeds," he awkwardly brought up. It took you a second to regain what was going on, after being so thrown off by Wade's sudden display of intimacy. "Oh...Oh! Oh you bet your ass," you recovered. Wade rubbed his hands together, almost like a corny cartoon villain as you lowered yourself down to his thick shaft.

You furiously tapped your fingers on your phone as you waited for a "ready to go" response from Wade. You added the final touches to your outfit. You spent a good chunk of your savings on your outfit for tonight, dead set on your revenge à la jealousy. The red velvet dressed you purchased hugged perfectly onto each of your curves and the string of thick pearls was cherry on top. You finally got the okay text from Wade, so you picked up your small clutched and jumped out of your apartment, knocking on Wade's door.

It was a sight you had never seen before. Wade W. Wilson was wearing a suit. A warm feeling flooded into your heart, seeing him make such an effort for the occasion. The tight fitted pants he was wearing brought a different type of warmth into your body. You noticed he was staring at you in a similar way, scanning the way the dress sculpted your frame. But the look on his face wasn't the normal lust filled eyes you had seen so many times before. It was different. Before you could decipher what exactly it was, Wade cut in. "How much did that dress cost?" You paused. "...You don't wanna know."

The taxi ride there was filled with repetitions of your master plan. Wade didn't seem to be paying much attention. It didn't matter though, as long as your head was in the game, this was sure to work.

You stepped out of the taxi and took in the view of the venue in front of you. You drew in a deep breath and found Wade standing next to you. "You ready party princess?" he asked, holding his arm out to wrap yours around. You smiled up at him and lock yours in. "Ready as I'll ever be playboy."

Most of the party was filled with shallow conversations with employers, bad music, and drinking. Lots of drinking. And then you saw him. You almost sprayed your cocktail out of your mouth at the sight. Your first instinct was to start smacking Wade's shoulder. "Jesus christ woman what is it?!?!" Wade shouted. You made a pointing gesture with your eyes towards Raoul. Wade follows your eyes. "Damn, I can see what kept you locked in for so long." "It sounds like you're begging for a trip to the hospital right now," you threatened. "Sorry, he just has a beautiful ass," Wade continued to tease. "Shame he's only into broke ass girls. Like you." "Can you stop being an asshole for once and focus!"

Wade rolled his eyes, put down his drink and pulled you out onto the dance floor. "What are you doing?" you confusedly whispered. "Going along with the plan," he said, not making eye contact with you. He put one of his hands on your hip and the other locked with yours. It surprised you how good of a dancer he turned out to be. He was light on his feet, swaying along to the rhythm of the music.

You naturally fell into his movements. You took moments of your dance with Wade to look over in Raoul's direction. He seemed fairly preoccupied with Clarissa, understandably. Your frustration laid clear on your face. Wade must have noticed, because next thing you know, he's twirling you and sends you into a dip. His face lit up at the sight of your sudden smile.

You look to your right and see exactly what you wanted. Raoul staring dead set on you on the dance floor. In an ditzy stupor you turn your face back to Wade. "I need you to kiss me." "What?" "Wade please just this once I swear, he's looking at us right now." He took a second to think, rolled his eyes, and placed a peck on your lips.

It didn't feel how you expected it to. He was rough, and mean with it. He brought you back up from the dip, roughly grabbed your wrist and dragged you back to the table with your drinks. You took a second to regain your footing. Wade downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. He looked shaken, upset even. "Are you okay?" you asked. Before he had the chance to respond, you noticed his eyes dart behind you. With record timing, you felt a tap on your shoulder and spin around.

Oh my god.

"I had a feeling that was you out on the dance floor," he said, in that smug tone he always used to use. You sighed to yourself. "Hi Raoul, it's been a minute." Catching you off guard, he pulls you in to a one armed hug, and lets go before you're able to reciprocate it. "Wait you know each other?" Clarissa asked, locked in on his arm.

Raoul starts first. "Um, yeah we were-" "We hung out at frat parties back in college," you cut in. It technically wasn't a lie. You just would rather spare yourself the embarrassment from her. Raoul didn't correct you, just a simple nod. "Aw, that's so cute!" Clarissa said. "Raoul's got so many friends I can hardly keep up at this point." Clarissa's high pitched giggle rang through your ears and you tried to keep a smile plastered on your face. "Oh I'm sure," you quietly added, getting a stink eye from Raoul in the meantime. God, you wish you didn't finish your drink earlier.

Raoul's eyes moved behind you. "I'm sorry, I didn't manage to get your name," he gestured to Wade. "Oh, that's Wade, he's my-" "Partner," he cut you off, moving up next to you and taking your hand. You squeezed it tightly, as a silent thank you. "Oh my god, congratulations!" Clarissa said. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend." "Yeah, we decided to wait until six months to go around posting about it and stuff," you added. "We would've waited longer, but I was too excited to keep it to myself any longer, isn't that right my love," Clarissa said, gently patting Raoul's jawline. "That's right my darling."

Just before taking Clarissa for a long, wet, uncomfortable kiss, you could feel a split second moment of eye contact between you and Raoul. Chills overtook your body. He was so...

Cold.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to excuse myself for a moment. It was great seeing you Clarissa," you quickly spat out before rushing away from the scene. You could hear who you hoped was Wade's footsteps leading close behind you. He called out your name for attention while you ran down the stairs, into the lobby, and out the door. "What the fuck was that? You just don't talk to me?" Wade questioned as you looked out onto the sidewalk for a taxi. "Not now Wade," you pushed him off. You could barely focus. Your mind was running a mile a minute, your heart pounding like a freight train. Who knew all it took to send you back months of healing was one look.

"This was a bad idea," you said to yourself. "Anyone could've told you that," you heard Wade say under his breath. Not in control of your actions, your hand quickly reacted, whipping itself across his cheek. It left a bright red mark on his face as Wade quickly went to hold it. "That is the last fucking thing I need right now, Wilson."

You sound like your father. You sound like his too.

The two of you stood on the sidewalk in the falling snow for a good five minutes of silence while waiting. A "Sorry," managed to come out of your mouth. Both of you were mad. Saying and doing things you didn't mean. Both hurting in your own ways. You hated the way Raoul could control your emotions. Always could. Like you were in the palm of his hand. Seeing yourself in that position again brought a wave of anger like nothing else.

"Let's just wait for the taxi," Wade said. You didn't look back to see his face, but you could feel his energy radiating in the snow. You fucked up. Big time. You were too angry to fix it right now though. This was a problem to solve in the morning. All you wanted right now was to curl up in your bed and sob for the next five hours.

Wade finally waved down a taxi for the two of you, opened the door to let you in first, and crawled in behind you. The tension in the car was so thick you were sure the driver could feel it too. It felt like you were in that car for hours until the two of you got out. As the car drove away and Wade looked for his keys to open the lobby door, all your thoughts began to flood out. "I can't believe he would wave her around in front of me like that!" You could feel the eye roll Wade was having right now, but didn't care enough to stop. He held the door open for you, as you continued talking into the elevator up. "And what was that kiss about?! Talk about show off. And gross also, their saliva almost flew into my eye." Wade stayed silent throughout your whole rant.

Still talking out the elevator and down the hallway. You were so caught up in your thoughts, you didn't even realize you were following Wade up to his door as he unlocked it. "And not to be a bitch, but how can Clarissa grow to stand him? Their personalities do not fit at all." Wade opened the door, and instinctively moved out of the way as he found you pushing yourself into his apartment as you continued talking.

He sighed to himself, closed and locked the door, threw his keys on the kitchen counter and stood by the door as you talked. "You know what? He went there to hurt me. He had to know Clarissa and I worked together, so he had to know I would be at that party! Why else would he go?!" Wade threw his head back, groaned, and began to walk up to you, shielded from your attention by the tangent you were on. "You know what, next work function he goes to, him gonna walk right up to him and tell him how much of an asshole he really is-."

The very last syllable of your sentence was picked up into Wade's mouth as his lips laced their way into yours.

You stood there wide eyed as Wade's lips rested on your mouth. He let go and opened his mouth for a moment as he lowered his eyes down to yours. "You talk too much. And you know it's bad when I'm the one saying that." You didn't have the room in your brain to respond. The only thing you could focus on was getting his mouth back onto yours. You grabbed the back of his head and smushed his face into yours, his own hands wrapping around your waist and hugging you into him.

This kiss was much different from your first one. This one was also rough, but surprisingly tender, like Wade had been waiting for this moment for ever. His lips maneuvered around your mouth the same way they did to your pussy, with a certain care and art. You were the first one to let your tongue slip, making its way into Wade's mouth. He treated it lightly, and with a gentle nature.

While you were distracted by the kiss, Wade hoisted you up to wrap your legs around his hips, and walked you to his bed. He let go of your mouth to dramatically plop you down on the mattress. "Before anything happens, I have got to get you out of that dress," Wade said, lowly and seductively. It was almost like magic, the way Wade's words could soak your underwear the minute they enter the air.

You unzipped your dress with haste, and tightly squeezed it off your body, tossing it to Wade's floor like it wasn't the most expensive piece of clothing you owned. To match you, Wade also stripped off his clothes, leaving both of you completely naked, except for undergarments, on his bed. Wade lowered himself on top of you, lacing his lips back into yours. Your hands explored his back, one of them taking a particular liking to one of his asscheeks, gripping and fondling it. Wade let out sounds of pleasure into your mouth as you played with him.

After a solid time of just making out, you separated your mouth from his. "What's wrong," Wade asked, a kind concern in his voice. You took a minute to gather your thoughts as you stared at Wade's cock, throbbing and bulging through his underwear. "Wade, I want you inside me."

Wade's breath hitched and you could see his cheeks grow red at your comment. "Are you sure?" It was crazy how much of his confidence and swagger he could lose because of your words. A symptom of something deeper inside his heart. You nodded gently. "I've never been so sure about anything until right fucking now," you whispered to him. Wade couldn't help but smile like a kid on Christmas morning. He laced his lips back into yours as his hands moved up your back and unclipped your bra like second nature. You used your hands to help him take off his boxers. The way his shaft sprung out made you gasp in delight.

Wade peppered kisses over your jaw, neck, and chest as he made his way down your body with his mouth. He took special time and care with your tits as he suckled on your nipple with that special tongue of his.

Wade was very dead set on his "no kissing" rule in the past, saving it only for when he would eat you out. Nothing above your hips or below your inner thigh. So, here and now, with his gentle kisses being pressed into your stomach, you couldn't help but giggle happily, your fingers scratching lovingly at the nape of his neck. You were so happy. Happier than when you two would mindlessly hook up. Happier than when you were with Raoul. Happier than when the stars would shine down on you from above. If you could pause time, you would stay in this moment forever. Tender. Pure. Happy,

The kisses made their way down your stomach, traced out your pelvic bone, and finally made it to the border of your panties. Wade's doe brown eyes looked up and made dead eye contact with you as his teeth latched onto your underwear lace. Your pussy throbbed with delight as you watched him pull down your underwear with his mouth expertly. He was most definitely not a novice at this. Once your underwear was finally off, Wade sat up on his knees, looking over your temple of a body.

In the time you two spent together, sure you did a lot of stuff together, but there were heavy boundaries in place. One being, neither of you had seen the other fully naked before. At least one piece of undergarment or clothing was kept on at all times, be it a shirt, boxer short, or skirt. Both of you wanted to get a certain level of privacy. But now, here you both were. Completely exposed for the other to soak in.

"You're so beautiful." His face was so full of admiration. No flirty tone. No pet name to level the meaning. He was absolutely serious. "You're so beautiful," you echo back to him, with the same amount of seriousness. Before he was going to do anything else, he lowered his entire body weight down onto you, skin to skin, and wrapped every inch of himself around you.. "What're you doing Wade?" you asked, gently scratching his bare back with your nails, feeling his skin rise and fall at your touch. "Cherishing you." You had no choice but to kiss him after that comment, a gentle peck from you landing on his lips. "I'm ready," you urged. Wade nodded. "I got you, princess."

Wade used his saliva to wet up your entrance, though not much was needed to help that situation. He used the rest of it to lather up his cock. Taking it in his hand, he gave you a kiss deep into your cheek, and pushed it inside.

Both of you moaned in a loud ecstasy as his thick shaft made its way into your leaking, tight cunt. Then, Wade began thrusting himself into you, as you grabbed onto his shoulders for support. His hands squeezed and manhandled both your tits as his hips rocked waves into you. It was exactly like dancing with him before. He had a certain rhythm to him, like he was a professional. It sounded cheesy as you thought it in your head, but it was true.

"Your pussy's so good for me," he whispered into your ear. "Like it was made for me or something." Your moans filled his ears, only encouraging him to go faster and harder with his thrusts. His dick filled up every crevice of your pussy, his tip pushing just right into your g-spot. One of his hand moves away from your tit and down to grope your asscheek. Your moans grow louder and your grip on his shoulder tightens. "You like it when I manhandle you, huh princess?" he teases. His mouth attaches itself to your neck as he sucks dark bruises into it. "Go harder Wade," you gasp. "As you wish," he cheekily remarks.

You can feel your body growing hotter as his dick throbs inside your tight cunt. The bed rocks and shakes with your movements. You wonder for a split second if any of your neighbors can hear you. The thought loses its momentum when you remember how much worse you've heard come out of this apartment room.

After a solid bit of going at it, you can feel your climax start to hit. Your breath goes shaky, your grip on him gets tighter, and your moans and gasps become more scattered and desperate. "I know sweetheart, I know, don't worry," Wade lowly whispers into your ear, giving your lobe a quick nibble after he's done. You begin to rock your hips as well, clashing into his, desperate to chase the high coming rushing towards you.

The high is magnificent, better than you had ever experienced with him. Your legs and body shake as your body comes around his dick, the orgasm ripping its way through your vocal cords. Wade slips his shaft out of you once your moans stop and finishes on his own on the edge of the bed.

You stay sitting in bed silent for some time, soaking in the full experience. Wade turns back to you and leans down to your pussy, soaking and slurping up your juices. Your body shivers under his gentle tongue. He does a reverse of before, kissing his way up your hips, to your stomach, to your neck, and finding its home on your lips. You wrap your arms around him as he kisses you, wiggling his way with you under the covers of his bed.

"So...how do you feel?" He asked, kissing your cheek. "Fucking great," you giggled. "Well duh, that was the obvious answer," he snarked, pressing quick kissing into every inch of your face, getting sweet laughs out of you. "You've suddenly turned into quite the kisser." "I think I was just waiting for the right moment," he said gently, scanning your face and finding a comfortable sitting in your eyes. "I'm glad you finally found it," you whispered to him. He smiled drowsily. "Me too." Wade nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses there. You closed your eyes as you took in his touch. You could feel yourself slipping out of consciousness, making a quick note to yourself to remember this moment forever. Cherishing Wade while you did so.

[immajustvibehere]

Touch Starved Arthur x fem!touchy Reader (Part 2)

Pairing: hh!Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader (fluffly)

Part1 here!

summary: Arthur takes you and Jack out camping for two nights. Both of you have to battle your feelings for each other until you finally....

warnings: one bed trope, fluff, domestic bliss

6000 words

In the manner of Arthur’s approach, you knew he was up to something. His big hands rested on his gun belt, his expression was casual. His attempt to appear relaxed was almost perfect. You weren’t fooled so easily, though. By the smug grin that started to appear on your face as Arthur came closer, he understood that you had sensed his unease from a mile away. Your intuition was exceptional, and Arthur silently cursed himself for his own transparency. And suddenly, there were his subtle tells…the scratching of his neck, the scrunching of his nose, the restlessness of his fingers caressing the leather of the belt.

"Hey, what's up?", you asked and propped your head up with your elbow resting on the table.

"Uhm...I have a proposition to make", Arthur awkwardly sat down at the table. Thankfully, barely anyone else was around to witness this encounter. The sun hadn’t risen yet and people were only slowly crawling out of their beds. In fact, Arthur still saw the remnants of sleep in your features but the steaming mug of coffee in front of you suggested that you were diligently combating it.

"I'm all ears."

Arthur couldn’t help but detect the playful undertone in your voice. You had grown more comfortable around each other the last few days and weeks and some banter and teasing were commonplace by now, particularly in the presence of others. But when you found yourselves alone, which hadn’t really happened since last time, you’d feel like there was a more genuine connection and care for each other than either of you would normally let on.

"Ya can say no if ya don't want to but-...well, I already talked to Abigail. She said she was fine with it", Arthur started. You had no clue what he was on about, but he pressed on, "I suggested we take out Jack for a night or two. The boy needs to see something aside this patch of land and I thought...if you would wanna tag along? You know, I was fine fishing with him but I'm not sure if I'd be any good at the other stuff."

"Yes, of course", you immediately replied. Arthur wasn't sure why he had expected a rejection or a dismissal that he was stupid to suggest such a thing. You actually looked pleasantly surprised about the idea.

You smiled: "It's not just Jack, you know? I haven't left camp since we moved here, so I'll get to see some of the country too!"

"Okay, sure", Arthur said, still somewhat in surprise about what you had just agreed to. But his surprise soon gave way to a sense of anticipation, especially when he noticed enthusiasm. He couldn’t supress a warm chuckle, evidently relieved that everything had worked out.

You briefly discussed the logistics, and Arthur settled on a plan: a night between Dewberry Creek and Ringneck Creek for the first stop, followed by, if Jack was up for it, a night in a room at the Rhodes Saloon.

The following day, you were all packed up. Your horse carried a rolled-up tent, large enough to accommodate the three of you. Jack rode with Arthur, he was the experienced rider after all and would be much greater use in keeping the child from sliding off the horse. It was a fine day, the morning sun was veiled behind some clouds, offering a respite from the usual stifling heat. Rain wasn’t to be expected, the clouds looked like they would clear sooner or later.

For the ride, Jack was dead silent for ten minutes at a time but then asked any question he could come up with. Arthur appreciated your willingness to respond, particularly when faced with Jack’s more challenging inquiries that needed to be tailored for a child’s understanding. Arthur was outright impressed at your skill in addressing his questions, and kept silent, even if Jack wanted his view on something specifically.

It was a smooth ride. Once you had passed the first creek you kept looking for an ideal spot to build your camp. You watched happily how Arthur pretended to discuss the area with Jack, granting him the final say in where to put up the tent. Arthur was responsible for the tent while you went off with Jack to look for firewood. When you returned, the tent had been putt up and Arthur had already gotten out the fishing gear.

"Are we fishing again?", Jack asked with curiously.

"Well, we gotta eat something", Arthur answered.

"But fishing's boring!" Jack said back and Arthur chuckled warmly. The last time he took the boy fishing, it was anything but uneventful, though he understood that a four-year-old wasn't so keen on standing still and waiting.

You squatted in front of Jack: "Why don't you take your toys with you to the water? You can play and Arthur and I'll do the boring waiting."

"Mh, okay."

You walked over to Ringneck Creek. Arthur settled on the same spot he had been to while fishing with Javier a while back. It had a good overlook of the place, so Jack could play in the distance, while still being in eye- and earshot. You and Arthur sat down next to each other, not saying anything and prepping the fishing rod. Even when there were no words exchanges, both of you felt comfortable in each other’s presence. Arthur felt your eyes on him as he pierced a tiny bit of cheese through the hook and handed the rod to you.

“The fish get cheese for lunch? That’s mighty fine, don’t you think?”, you joked.

“This cheese? It has been mouldy for days now. It won’t do us any good. But for fish? The stinker, the better”, Arthur explained and added in a mumble, “Or so I’ve heard…”

You both threw out your line and before you quipped: “So you keep your mouldy cheese in your satchel with the rest of your food?”

Arthur watched the rings expanding around his line, then swallowed quickly before looking you in the eye. Not very convinced he answered: “No…?”

He had expected a lesson on proper food hygiene, but you only grinned cheekily: “Glad I took care of food for this trip. But you really shouldn’t do that, you know? Next time you leave camp for more than a day, I’ll pack you something.”

“Ya don’t have to do that, really”, Arthur replied out of politeness, but the idea of you walking up to him with a sandwich to take on his journeys sent tingles to his chest.

“Mh. I insist”, you said, “I’ll have to take care of you if your stomach goes mad, so I’d rather prevent that. Not that I wouldn’t like to take care of you. Don’t you never keep an injury or sickness a secret in front of me, got it?”

“Yes ma’am”, Arthur said, “You sound like Miss Grimshaw, it’s good yer away from camp for a while”, Arthur joked. Deep down, he knew that you didn’t want to control him, but that you sincerely cared for his well-being. Something Arthur couldn’t quite understand. Of course, he would do the same for you – but that’s different because he had already figured out that he liked your attention more than anyone else. No, that he liked you more than anyone else. Arthur got a little lost in his own thoughts. He wasn’t yet entirely sure about his feelings for you. Mainly because he wasn’t sure how you felt. You were so kind and caring for everyone in the gang, he sadly doubted that he was anything special.

“I missed spending some time with you. Sorry that it’s so hard to sneak away from camp”, you said after a while, bringing Arthur back to reality.

“Doesn’t matter”, Arthur mumbled. He was embarrassed that he felt his cheeks getting warm, “We got away now, didn’t we? I feel almost bad that I take up so much of yer time.”

“Please don’t”, you laughed, looking at the man next to you with a smile.

“I think I saw Sean shed a tear when he heard that you’d be away from camp for two days”, Arthur mentioned.

“Yeah. I think he’s sweet on me”, you said so casually, that Arthur was caught off guard, staring at you in disbelieve.

Arthur cleared his throat before he slowly said: “I thought he and Karen…?”

“Well, Karen is good for one thing”, you said with an ambiguous smile, not meaning serious offence with those words, “I’m good for another.”

From the distance, you heard Jack calling for ‘uncle Arthur’. Arthur sighed with a smile and handed you his finishing rod.

“Yer okay to watch that?”, he asked.

“Sure, go ahead”, you encouraged him.

Jack wanted Arthur’s help to balance on a dead tree. It was wholesome to see how Arthur helped him up on the trunk and then held his hand so he would have an easier time balancing. Then the boy would sit on Arthur’s shoulders and break a smooth looking branch from a tree, using it to play swords fighting with Arthur. You knew that Arthur was gentle with Jack and compared to some men in the gang, even to John if you were honest, he was doing a great job. Still, you hadn’t dreamt that he'd be ready to take on a whole swords fight, pretending to get stabbed when Jack’s twig poked his leg. You noticed Arthur’s stolen glances in your direction. It was as if he wanted to make sure you were watching, though you didn’t have the impression that he only played along to impress you. Arthur seemed to genuinely enjoy it.

“Caught anything yet?”, Arthur’s voice woke you up from your daydreams when he walked up to you after a while.

“No…”, you answered and admitted, “I was a little distracted.”

“Ain’t blamin’ ya. We gave you a hell of a show”, Arthur said and took his spot next to you again. Luckily, a few fish bit later on and by the time you walked back to your tent, a fire could be built and the fish were grilled. A lot of time had passed, and the sun was already low in the sky. Jack demanded to be read to from his favourite book. After you had read a few pages and Jack had settled in to listen to some more, you handed the book to Arthur. He had been busy with stoking the fire and cleaning the grit, so he was a little caught off guard by the action.

“What am I supposed to do with that?”, he asked.

“Read to the boy”, you answered with a grin.

“Why can’t you?”, Arthur asked, his eyebrows raised in wonder.

“My throat is starting to feel sore”, you lied so obviously, that even Jack could have seen through it, “besides; I want someone to read to me too.”

Arthur considered the situation for a moment before giving in. The last time he read a book to someone…well, he wasn’t sure. Was it to Jamie when he was still a little boy or to Isaac? Did he ever even read out to Isaac? Arthur was prompted into opening the book when you suddenly snuggled up to him. But that alone made him lose his voice for a moment, so he had to collect himself before starting to read.

You loved how raspy Arthur’s voice would get when he was nervous, but it soon smoothed out and he had barely read for ten minutes when you had to stop him, because Jack had fallen asleep.

“’s barely even dark…”, Arthur commented after he had carried the boy to his bedroll in the tent.

“He did have an eventful day”, you said, and Arthur had to agree. The bottle of whiskey Arthur had brought was soon opened up and half was gone by the time you could make out the first stars in the sky. A lot of your conversation was just recollecting the day or commenting on happenings on the last few days, but after some silence, Arthur started a new conversation.

"Maybe, if ya told me what the other men ask you to do, I'd feel less a fool for asking ya fer something", Arthur suggested. The undertone of his voice revealed curiosity, but he had tried to keep that intent hidden. You were surprised that he remembered what you had talked about the last time it was just the two of us.

"You're unbelievable!", you exclaimed and giggled so light-heartedly. Arthur's heart melted when he saw the crinkles around your eyes. "You just want the gang's gossip!", you accused him.

"No! I'm just sayin'", Arthur shrugged with a smile, "It would really help a lot."

You looked at him, his blue-greenish eyes staring right back at you. You were an avid eye-contact holder, it was required for your role in the gang. But no pair of eyes ever compared to Arthur's. It was his turn to catch your gaze wandering to his lips, he also noticed how your eyes fluttered, when they looked up again, and then briefly away, as if you considered something.

"Fine. I'll tell you some. But I won't tell you who asked me for what."

"Sure."

"Mhhh...it's not the craziest stuff, if you’re expecting that. Most men like when I play with their hair. Or head scratches. I told you I was good at them! Someone likes it when I feed them. Like...you know...we go pick some berries and I feed them. It can be really,...domestic, I suppose. But then it becomes a lot of fun because we try to throw the berries into each other mouths, trying to catch them. It’s great..."

You got slightly embarrassed. When you spend time with other men from the gang, you always tried to give them an experience that made them happy. Some of it was oddly intimate. It didn't bother you much, but now, speaking about it with Arthur, you somehow started to worry that you'd be worth less in his eyes. Just because you have done those things with his friends. It wasn't like you slept with them. No, none, with very few exceptional instances, have ever been inappropriate.

You were silent for a while, those thoughts taking over quickly. And yet, what should it matter? It’s just Arthur, it was okay if he knew that side of you.

You sighed deeply, still finding Arthur’s eyes glued to your lips.

"Some of them like to show off to me. It's real stupid stuff. Like 'look how quick I can draw' or 'check out this piece of wood I whittled'. I suppose these are just things they are mildly proud at...but embarrassed to show someone. I...like that, though. It's really cute and reveals something about the person. There is always something to praise or enjoy about it. And they really appreciate it."

Arthur stared into the fire, nodding his head slowly.

After a while, he started with: "I ehrm-..." Then he pulled out his journal.

"It's nothing special either...", he flipped through some pages, only to reveal a double-sided sketch of Clemen's Point. A beautiful sketch, well-observed with depth and detail. You knew Arthur kept a journal – you never knew he drew in it! And from all the sketches the other men had ever shown you, most of them could have been done better by Jack, this was honestly impressive.

"Arthur-"

"I know, 's silly", and he was about to close the journal when you snatched it out of his hand and placed it in your lap. Not daring to flip the page but studying the sketch in front of you.

"Are you kidding? It's fucking amazing."

When Arthur looked at you in disbelieve, you doubled down: "Fuck you, man. I can't even pick out things I like to praise because the whole damn thing's just-!"

"Yer teasing me..."

"Am not! When someone shows me a drawing, I often have to guess, like ‘Oh, that’s a nice bison you drew.’ And then they correct me and go like ‘It’s supposed to be a dog.’ and we have a good laugh about it…but this…Is that Dutch's horse?", you asked, pointing at the little white stallion. Arthur confirmed it. You started to point at things, accurately identifying what it was. John's tent, the chicken coop, even the figure in the distance, that only was a vague outline of a person, you identified as if you had been there when it was drawn.

"You have more drawings in there?", you asked.

"Sure. But- wait", he took the journal back, carefully skipping the pages where he had sketched you, which had happened suspiciously often recently, and only showing you the landscapes and animals. You never expected that Arthur had an eye for things like that. A doe was captured perfectly in its shy manner. A funny looking cabin, a crooked tree. For all those things, Arthur stopped and took his time to draw them. It was stunning. You felt like he had given you a better idea of what sort of a man he actually is. To say you liked that version of him, was an understatement and you started to realise this with every sketch of ducks or fish he presented to you.

"When you find someone, someone you really like. And start a family...you could draw and sell those pictures, you know?"

Arthur was shocked. Firstly, why you knew about his wish to start a family, and secondly, that you suggested his drawings are nearly good enough for anyone to pay money for.

"Y/n", Arthur lamented, almost with a painful voice. As if you were that naive girl that had no idea about how life works. That there could never be a family for him, never a different life than shooting and robbing to get to some money.

"Have you ever painted? Like with colour and a paintbrush?", you interrupted.

"Ain't worth it. I'd be no good with colour. And it's too expensive."

"When's your birthday?", you asked out of the blue. You were determined. If you had to work your ass off for it or drop to your knees in front of Miss Grimshaw, you'd get this man a paintbrush.

"No", Arthur said firmly.

"Come on!", you quipped.

"Stop it. It's just a stupid thing I do to pass some time it ain't-"

"But I love them!", you interrupted, "I really do. Every single one you showed me."

"Clearly, something ain’t right in your head then", Arthur joked and put his journal away.

"You are a charming man, Mr. Morgan," you teased back, bumping into his shoulder.

As if your words had confirmed Arthur's accusation, he comically tapped your forehead with his index finger: "Really messed up, aren't you?"

"Why?", you said, switching gears and skilfully capturing Arthur's finger that had went for another tap. It took both of your hands to open Arthur's hand, not that he resisted, but his hands were huge. And with your guidance, Arthur's hand cupped your cheek. "Is it because I like to spend time with you? Do you think one has to be mad to enjoy that? Because if you do think that...I have to give you ten reasons why you are wrong."

Arthur barely listened to your words. His senses were hyper focused on his hand which was touching your cheek. Warm and soft. Not smooth like a perfect hide, but skin isn't perfect. Hell, his hand must be mighty uncomfortable. It was calloused, beaten up, scarred. There was no rational reason why you would snuggle your face into it like it was a pillow you readied for a night's sleep.

With pleasure you watched how often he blinked, how flustered he became, how his hand twitched in excitement under your touch. As careful as you were some butterfly, Arthur’s thumb dared to caress your cheek. The movement was so small, it was like he didn’t even want you to notice that you he had dared to do that. Somehow, this rough and hardened outlaw was a real sensitive guy. A sensitive guy who made your stomach flutter.

"I'll head to bed and join Jack, you coming too?", you asked, guiding Arthur's hand into your lap and holding in lightly with your two hands.

"Imma...t-take care of the fire a little longer", Arthur answered with coarse voice, his throat entirely dried up.

"M'kay", you smiled and stood up without letting go of Arthur's hand. Halfway in the process of standing up you halted, pressing a light kiss on Arthur's cheek and whispered good night, before finally letting go and walking off to the tent.

Though you were exhausted, it was tricky to sleep. You listened to Arthur who was still attending the fire, walking up and down, whispering to the horses and occasionally took a swig from the bottle. Jack slept at the side of the tent, you had taken the spot in the middle. No matter how long it felt until sleep finally took over, Arthur crawled into the tent ten minutes later, only to find out that you had messed with the sleeping set-up. It wasn’t the way he had arranged it, namely, a very inequal distribution of blankets and ‘pillows’ (rolled-up jackets or other garments). Arthur had planned to spend the night without a blanket, so you and Jack had two. But you had given up one of yours, which neatly waited on Arthur’s bedroll for him.

“She ain’t gonna make this easy for me”, Arthur thought, before lying down.

-

“Uncle Arthur!”, Jack squatted next to the man who was still fast asleep. Well, until the boy started to shake him with all his might, though it barely rattled the man.

“Aunt y/n told me to wake you”, Jack smiled innocently. Arthur was trying to grasp the situation. For a fleeting moment, he thought there was danger nearby. Then he had been confused about why Jack was there. Only slowly, as Jack left the tent and the rays of sunshine hit his face, he remembered that he had went out camping with you and the boy. And clearly, he had overslept.

Arthur crawled out of the tent and stood up with a groan, stretching his tired limbs. The smell of coffee had reached his nose before he looked down to see Jack walking towards him, a half-filled cup in his hands.

“For you”, he exclaimed. Arthur took the mug and mumbled his thanks, looking up a little to finally lay eyes on you. The fire was on, the percolator boiling with water, and he saw that you were in the process of readying a little pan for some eggs you had apparently taken from camp.

“Good morning”, you said with a big smile.

“Sorry I overslept…”, Arthur grumbled, sitting down by the fire.

“Nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad you could catch up on some sleep.”

Breakfast was nice. You scrambled some eggs, garmented them with herbs you had collected earlier and re-filled Arthur’s mug. Jack was happy after eating a few bites and then playing with his toys in the distance. Arthur and you discussed the rest of the day and decided you would take your time, see if Jack was up for a ride and a stroll through Rhodes and spending another night at the Saloon.

Later, Jack helped you with washing the dishes at the creek. You managed to talk him into throwing a wet rag at Arthur, which he answered by throwing the rag back at you. This started a game of dogde or catch the rag. You laughed a lot. By mid-day you were on your horses, carefully navigating the shadows to escape the relentless sun. After one very slow hour of riding, with breaks whenever Jack discovered something interesting on the ground that needed further investigation, you arrived in Rhodes. After restocking on groceries, you made your way to the saloon, finding it relatively quiet and peaceful still.

“Can I help you, folks?”, the bartender asked, leaning on the counter.

“A room, please”, Arthur stated briefly. The bartender considered you for a moment, his eyes wandered from Arthur to you and finally your hand that rested protectively on Jack’s shoulder.

“We have a special deal for families. Spacious room, enough beds and a discount on a bath”, the bartender explained, opening the ledger where he kept track of which rooms were taken.

“Sounds great!”, you chimed in happily before Arthur could do as much as open his mouth.

“There you go. Walk up the stairs behind there, first door on the right”, the bartender handed you the keys, “Just let me know when you want the water heated up.”

“Will do, thanks!”, you answered. Your free arm was quickly intertwined with Arthur, who was taken by surprise. He stiffened a little but walked off with you and Jack rather convincingly.

“Whoa! This bed is huge!”, exclaimed Jack when you walked into the room.

“Ain’t for you though, little man”, Arthur chuckled. The room was equipped with a bed that was big enough to fit a couple and a toddler, but there was still a children-sized one in the corner. Arthur noticed how your arm slipped away from his as you entered the room, dropping some of your luggage onto the floor.

“Luxurious, isn’t it?”, you smiled. It was definitely better than the rooms you’d get in Valentine and probably even cleaner than the other ones the saloon had to offer. Jack was settling in, testing how bouncy his mattress was and unpacking his toys while Arthur walked up to you, clearing his throat.

“Yer fine with sharin’ a bed?”, he asked.

You raised an eyebrow: “We shared a tent last night, and that was a much tighter fit, wouldn’t you say so?”

“I guess…”, Arthur felt a little helpless. Sharing a bed felt more domestic and intimate than sharing the same tent. Also, Jack wouldn’t be all snuggled up to you, but in his own bed at some distance. Frankly, Arthur was excited. You watched his frown, not quite sure if its origin was because of discomfort or simple nervosity.

“Are you okay with that? I could bring my bedroll and-“, you wanted to suggest, but Arthur was quick to interrupt you: “I just didn’t know if you were fine with it. I don’t want ya to feel uncomfortable.”

“Don’t worry about me”, you smiled, “I’ll go down and ask for a bath. Abigail will be glad I we bring the boy back cleaner than he was before.”

Arthur was alone in the room for nearly an hour, before you and Jack appeared with damp hair, smelling of soap. It was decided that Arthur would also make use of the warmed-up water, and as he went off to the bathroom, you and Jack set your plan in motion.

By the time Arthur returned he was met with a sight that initially puzzled him. The two of you had transformed the little corner with Jack’s bed using the limited resources available to you, creating a makeshift fort out of pillows and blankets. Jack’s small bed had been turned into a cozy cave of sorts, sheltered from the outside world to the point where you needed a lantern to read a book within.

Arthur didn’t even see you at first, he only heard Jack’s bubbly giggle and you shushing him. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to play along and pretend that he didn’t know where you were…like some sort of hide-and-seek. But he decided against it, instead sighing happily, and sitting down on the big bed.

“I can hear ya, ya know?”, he said gently.

“No you can’t!”, Jack said back.

“Should have built it bigger, doesn’t look like I’ll fit underneath there”, Arthur commented. Now, you peeked out. Arthur saw how you opened a mouth, but something stopped you for a moment. His hair was wet and slicked back. He hadn’t even bothered putting on his shirt, but instead only wore his pants and union suit underneath. Hell, he hadn’t even bothered to button it all the way up. It hugged his muscles perfectly. You knew he was in good shape, but you hadn’t expected THIS.

“Shouldn’t have grown so big then”, you finally said, a fine blush on your cheeks.

As the evening advanced, you had read several chapters to Jack, lulling him into slumber. You then quietly slipped into the bed beside Arthur. After some casual conversation which both of you skilfully and awkwardly used to get closer to each other, Arthur asked something that had been on his mind for a while: "What do you get out of it? All the nurturing and caring for everyone in the gang? Has any one of them ever done right by you?"

"Well...I have a place to stay and sleep. I don't have to worry too much about earning money. And I like making others happy."

Arthur didn't like that. A place to sleep and food, he felt like, shouldn't be things you had to earn by listening to the complaints of others all the time.

"All you get is hearing the troubles of some dirty, foolish outlaws. Ain’t really a life, is it?"

"Some make me happy too", you admitted, quietly. You realised how Arthur tensed up slightly.

"I get to know y'all. Don't you think that's a privilege? For a woman my age? Others can't simply walk around in the street, offer some hand-holding a listenin' and expect this to pay for their meals."

"You want to do this for the rest if your life?", Arthur asked. You scanned his body, focusing on the dark hair that grew on his chest.

"No", you whispered, and gently, you put your hand on his chest. You felt his heart, no, you saw how it beat, the skin of his chest swiftly moving in an up and down movement.

Arthur...was different than the others. You didn't know if it was that there was an actual difference, or if it just felt differently. But the way he treated you, the way he held you...it was so gentle. Like it was touch meant for a lifetime. The others were slightly more prudish, because they knew they had a couple of hours with you and maybe they'd be shot and die the next day. Somehow...not Arthur. When he pulled you closer into a hug, it was always the same, as if it was a welcome back, a coming home. There was no holding onto it, because he sorts of knew you would always be there. And you wanted it to be like that too. Because you, as tricky it was to admit, had feelings for this man.

Now it was you who caught Arthur staring, staring at the unsure movements your lips made as you searched for something to say. Maybe to explain what this all meant to you.

"Do you think it's ridiculous, what I do?", you asked. You wanted to know Arthur's opinion, truly.

"What? No."

"Really?"

"Hell, we'd be a bunch of degenerates if ya didn't keep us together. Yer ignoring Micah. For good reasons, I gotta say, and look what a slimy no-good he is. We'd be all like that if it wasn't for you", Arthur said. There was humour in his voice, but he meant what he had said. You smiled slightly.

"I wish I had come to you earlier", Arthur said.

"We are making up for the lost time, aren't we?", you said and leaned into him. The gesture seemed so familiar that Arthur wrapped his arms around you with barely any thought. Arthur watched your fingers as they trailed through his hair on his chest, never resting somewhere for long but tracing lines from his collar bones to where his beard started on his neck.

“Do you mind?”, you whispered, your fingers resting on a button of his suit.

Arthur subtly shook his head and watched how you unbuttoned one button after another. You had him slip out of the sleeves so the suit could be pulled further down, now exposing his entire abdomen to you.

There was no way he could hide his hitched breath. Your touch tickled pleasantly as your fingers explored his skin. He was enjoying those careful attentions, you'd trace around bruises and old scars, Arthur was focused on how it felt differently, the abused flesh and the scar tissue that had lost sensitivity. He noticed, either for the first time ever, or he had forgotten in the meantime, how ticklish he was on his side, under the ribs. He had no urge to laugh, but his body reacted to your touch differently, squirming when your skin brushed over his. Arthur noticed that you took a liking to those reactions, because he felt the corner of your mouth, which was pressed into his arm as you leaned into him, curl into a smile.

It was quiet. Sometimes the yells of a bar fight could be heard or someone hammering on the piano, but that aside, it was only Jack's silent snores that disturbed the peace.

"Arthur?", you whispered and sat up.

"Mhm?", Arthur looked sleepy. It wasn't even that late yet, but something about the situation was making him sleepy in the best way. You said nothing more. You only put your hand on his cheek, briefly caressing his stubble.

"Would it be okay if I kissed you?", you asked.

For a few moments, Arthur's mind went completely blank. He only breathed a shaky "Yeah" and your lips brushed his already.

Instantly, Arthur's hands pulled you in closer. You were close, lips brushing, breathing each other's air. It was all you needed, before both of you finally pressed into each other.

You knew Arthur was gentle, but this sort of tenderness took even you by surprise. And Arthur- well, he was pretty sure he was dreaming. When was the last time he had kissed a woman? No, when was the last time he kissed a woman and felt like his heart was about to explode in his chest. He had craved this ever since the night you spent together. And by the way your hands wandered to his hair, fingers running through his strands, he knew you had wanted it just as much.

It was a soft kiss and both of you looked sort of surprised when it had ended. Arthur sat up slightly and pulled you on his lap, which earned him a happy grin. You started to pepper the man in front of you with kisses. Super light, as if a breeze was brushing his forehead, his cheek, his nose, under his ear, the corner of his lips. You had lost count, stirred on by a blushing Arthur underneath you.

"D-don't ya think that's enough?", Arthur said, kind of trying to dodge your kisses, but not really.

"Nope. You deserve this!", you said, but when you headed for his nose, Arthur managed to turn it into a proper kiss again.

Then you sank on his chest, lying on top of him with his arms wrapped around you.

For Arthur, this was a weird feeling at first. But he loved how your weight pressed him down into the mattress and how your hands always found a piece of his body to caress and tickle. He was embarrassed about how dry his mouth and throat became again, all of a sudden. He was convinced you realized how often he had to swallow and how hesitant he still was to move his hands any further down than the small of your back. Though if you noticed, you were very understanding. You clearly heard his heart hammering in his chest and waited patiently for it to calm down before speaking again.

"Can I tell you something silly?”, you said, lost in thoughts.

"Sure"

"I liked it when the bartender referred to us as family."

"Me too", and his hold on you became ever so tighter.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

@eyelovie @t3rritorial-piss1ngs @daenerysluvrr @cookiesandcreaminthetardis @tem60 @freshoutthewomb2 @itswormtrain @ineedyoubadly @lea-khena @anawkwardartistandgamer @pheesupremacy @tahitiansiguesss @c2ss1e @alyxhasonsocks @kagemaruzest69 @agaritas @lonesome-ranger @joelmillers-gf

[seraphdesire]

Regarding Donna Beneviento and her characterisation in the fandom, I think it's important to note that she really isn't the shy awkward adorable blushing mess that everyone depicts her as being.

This got long but I did a mildly extensive read on her character under the break! :)

Here are the notes I took a screencap of, written by Mother Miranda, which talks about the suitability of Donna being a vessel for Eva:

There's the evidence you need that she is severely mentally ill, so babying her just feels... wrong anyway, all things considered.

Note - "and has divided her Cadou among her dolls in order to control them from a distance." While I'm on my 3rd replay of re8 I still don't fully get how the Cadou works, but what I think is essentially happening is Donna is literally splitting off parts of herself and putting them in her dolls.

The main one being Angie, of course.

I always used to consider Angie a separate character entirely but she's linked deeply to Donna on a very personal level. Considering what she's like and what all the other dolls are like - loud, funny, sarcastic, rude, etc - and how Donna is literally the one directly controlling Angie (that's the only way she moves lol, because Donna is carrying her places. Which is also why, when you kill Angie, the illusion melts away to reveal that you've actually killed Donna), I think it's safe to say that's what her actual personality is like.

Also, her only spoken line of dialogue? Please listen to it. For those who are hard of hearing, like me, she says: "don't leave... I can't let you."

Bearing in mind the way she speaks? Her tone? She sounds confident imo. Determined. And perhaps even a little angry at Ethan for thinking he can escape her.

Just a last addition as well, can I say that her abilities as one of the Four Lourds is genuinely evil? Everyone else has physical intimidation - Alcina has her height and her claws and mutation, Heisenberg has his ability to control magnetic fields and metal, and Moreau can mutate into that huge fish-with-legs thing that vomits something akin to acid? Oh yeah and he can swallow you whole too.

Donna, on the other hand, doesn't have physical intimidation like that. She only has the threat of psychological damage (which makes sense considering she's severely mentally unwell). When Ethan goes through her gardens and has to solve the puzzles in the house, she makes him hallucinate about his wife whom he thinks is dead, and about his baby who is somewhere in this unknown country with a bunch of mutants who only have bad intentions.

It's even worse in the Shadows of Rose DLC imo. As Rose, Donna makes her hallucinate the bullies from back home, being called a freak and a weirdo, made to relive the worst moments of her life. And the puzzles too? Hell. Having to actually recreate the scenes of her bullying with wooden fucking dolls. I remember feeling really sorry for Rose while playing through that part.

And yet Donna is still "the uwu baby" because what? I don't know. People love to declaw female villains just because they're attractive (looking at Lady Dimitrescu here). They love to reduce the characters down to their looks and not consider their actual lore or background or the role they play in the franchise (looking at Leon especially...)

Which, ya know, of course people are allowed their headcanons for characters and Donna doesn't get enough screentime to really have her personality even thought of, let alone to be made canon. But I think it's fair to say that Angie and Donna are basically one and the same because they're literally the same Cadou.

This is a quick reminder that you are, of course, allowed to disagree with me. Everyone has their own opinions and that's fine. If you would like to politely debate about this in my comments or in my DMs, or even in my asks, then you're more than welcome to! Please remember debating and arguing are two different things though.

If it really irks you that bad then please scroll, it's not hard. If you don't want to do that then feel free to block me - the button is free of charge after all and should be used more to cultivate your feed to your liking.

[metranart]

“I must admit you picked a pretty one, real pretty girl—” Dabi's grin only grew as Hawks’s scowl deepened. “—Let me know more about your new pet, Keigo. I usually can’t shut you up,” he smirked, reaping some humor from the nasty situation. 

ft. Hawks centered, Hawks x reader, Slight! Bakugo x reader, Slight! Dabi x reader (in future chaps)

Hawks x UA Student! Reader (Part 12)

-

Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut.

-

“She doesn’t seem particularly special,” The leader of the League of Villains had hissed. Red, bloodshot eyes set on the wicked set of photos provided by Dabi, even though he wanted to look particularly uninterested in the material, he couldn’t stop flipping through each photo over, and over again. 

“Don´t tell me,” Mr. Compress peeked from behind Shigaraki’s shoulder to have a glimpse at the material, “—does Hawks have some kind of fucked-up crush on her?”

Dabi merely smirked, shrugging his shoulders. “Don´t know, don´t care.” 

Dabi was Hawks’ contact with the league, since he had introduced him to the group with some ‘I wanna change sides bullshit’, -which no one really believed. 

Since that day, the fire-bender used to tail the winged hero to keep an eye on him, what was his surprise when he found him raping you in a dark alley, after no less than having saved you of a Nomu, earlier that same day.  

His cellphone wasn’t the best but the photos he took were quality, clear and concise. 

Dabi didn’t even have to worry about being found out since Hawks was so smitten by you— Dabi could have been sitting on a garbage can across, and he wouldn’t have noticed.

So, he printed a few copies of this magnificent evidence against the prominent hero and went down to business. 

Shigaraki finally finished browsing the pictures, to glance up at him. 

“If you don’t care—why are you showing us these?” he fanned the photos on his hand. “Do you get off like this, you, sick staple-face?” The silver-haired leader wondered, knowing that Dabi’s actions always had a second agenda.

“What I get off with isn’t your business, crusty. But I thought it would be proof enough to trust the heroic birdie’s change of sides.” He shared, calmly. Uncrossing his arms from his chest to fish his hands inside his pockets, lazily leaning against the nearest wall.  

That had caught Shigaraki’s attention. 

“It could have been consensual….” The silver-haired suggested, holding in his hand a photo where Hawks was devouring your mouth while nailing you against the cold concrete of the wall – your little hands grabbing at his shoulders for sweet support while his held you up by the hips, way too greedily, you looked cock-drunk. 

Turning it around, showed it to the rest for a more unanimous opinion.

“She’s so pretty, like a cute little doll~” Toga shared dreamily, slowly leaning closer to snatch the photo from Shigaraki who effortlessly dodged her.

“Oh! That’s not correct, they are in public, how naughty! I can’t see…” Twice looked away to immediately spin around and look back to the photo, “if they did it like that, it’s because they like to be seen… Hawks is such a dog…” his other personality kicked in, starting a hilarious fight which, everyone ignored, except for toga who constantly giggled.

“The girl looks way too naïve to be doing that consensually,” Spinner judged without giving the photo a second look, his sense of justice feeling sickened by the fake winged hero’s actions.  

“-And on top of that, she looks way too young…. probably closer to Toga’s age, don’tcha agree?” Mr. Compress stated, fascinated by the lewd images.

They could probably sell them and aside from making some good money, they would dismantle the reputation of Hawks, Mr. Number Two Hero in the country. But why would they want to do that to a possible fellow villain?  

He couldn’t help but be… intrigued.

“I say we let him into the league, this…” Mr. Compress tapped at the photo with his finger, “is a despicable act of rampant carnality against a minor, and consensual or not, it’s still a crime.” 

Dabi agreed by nodding his head once. 

“Looks like it~” Toga agreed as well and soon Twice did too. “That little birdy is a bad birdy.”

Spinner grunted an affirmation, and Shigaraki sighed annoyed before announcing. “We’ll give him a chance, now he can join our meetings and some plans…. But he’s not part of the League yet, he’s on trial.”

Everyone agreed, and Shigaraki glanced at warp user who calmly approached. 

“Kurogiri, do me a favor and inform Hawks of our decision— and personally deliver these to him,” he handed over the photos and before releasing them, said, “Tell him it’s our warm welcome gift to the League of Villains.”

Kurogiri nodded, to then disappear in the back. 

Shigaraki scratched at his neck staring at Dabi. “You are still his contact, charred face. As your oldest acquaintance as you presented him…. -If ends up betraying us, you alone must kill him.”

Dabi entertained Shigaraki’s lofty order with sadistic patience before untroubled replied a short. 

“Noted.”

-

Meanwhile, Hawks was a mess, a beating uncomfortable mess. 

Slowly his wounds were healing, even though the encounter with Dabi had been a couple of days ago. Although he still paraded with a broken lip, traces of burns on his clavicle, torso and arms. His hero suit far from salvable, all scorched and stained with dried cum, —even part of his eyebrow had turned to ashes, not to mention, how affected his wings were, he was barely able to fly.

The blond sighed, tiredly.

Having to sneak through the window of his own agency so as not to arouse suspicion among his subordinates was beginning to bother him...... —he shouldn't have gotten carried away, he knew Dabi only wanted to annoy him, enflame his blood just out of sadistic entertainment.... Yet, he was stupid enough to allow him. 

In the last couple of days, instead of patrolling he had been sitting in his office, wasting precious time just analyzing every little detail of what had transpired between you and him…. how his rut ​​had gotten out of control thanks to your quirk. 

Whatever your fucking quirk was had a ridiculous effect on his instinctual responsiveness. Everything had felt good—fucking amazing, mind-blowing, life-changing—though right now, sober and away from your numbing effect, Keigo couldn’t decide if was just your quirk deluding him into thinking your pussy was the best he’d ever had, or if it really was. 

NO! Deep inside he knew it, YOU really were just that fucking incredible. 

His instincts didn’t lie. Actually, it was taking him a monumental effort not to fly to the UA dorms and snatch you away, back to him, safe by his side. 

It’s only been three days away from you and he was already feeling hopeless. Hawk’s mind wandered back to you... and to that stupid ‘welcome gift’. 

Once again, the League of Villains gift greeted him from his desk, without a doubt, this little bastard had been the catalyst for the fight with the fire-user.

Those damn photos that laid scattered all over, screaming his crude crime at him. Mocking and equally enticing for someone as warm-blooded as Hawks. Those damn photos were grotesque, heartbreakingly brutal to his psyche, raw evidence of his brutal attack against you… he hated them— but hated even more how much he had already used them to jack himself off. 

Normally, he would have managed to tame his libido with practiced control—just his imagination to enjoy the ride. But shit it was not fucking working. 

So, just to gauge the obvious upper hand the League of Villains held on him, he thought of scrutinize the photos. He needed to analyze the evidence, yet each printed scene was brought back to life in his mind…

Your pussy gripping him so gloriously, calling him home— that tight, lovely look on your face as you buried yourself onto his lap, taking him fully in one go was fucking thrilling. 

His breath shuddered, as his patience thinned in a matter of seconds. Not even taking himself out, started to stroke himself hard and fast, nose pressed into the poor remaining of his old hero jacket, he breathed in what still lingered of your sweet scent between the fibers.

“Baby bird~” He called brokenly. “Y/N…” His eyes closed at the thought of you. 

You were so smart and funny; it skyrocketed his excitement. The thrill of having another duel of wittiness almost made him cum on the spot. 

Not to mention how well you were fit together, those perfect tits he loved to see bouncing while he breed you… your perfect ass, which look much nicer with his handprint swelling onto the skin, and your pussy—fuck, he could almost replay how tight it felt around him, how viciously grip him and milk every last fucking drop of his cum straight into your fertile womb—making him wonder perhaps, he was already a dad. 

He wouldn’t mind, the commission will deal with the public eye, as he dealt with you and his chicks. 

The mere vision of you all swelled and round with his baby ended up doing it for him. He came, hard! in thick, hot spurts, all over the photos…. ropey, white streaks now decorating each single piece of evidence. 

“Fuck,” he panted, chest heaving, limbs trembling. If he hadn’t been sitting down, his quivering knees would have failed him.  

Never has he ever spilled himself so wonderfully just by his own hand. You had him really stupefied, he idolized you, now you were his everything.

Goddamn it, he thought glaring at the stained pictures of him fucking into you. I have to add hypocrite to the list... that thought came almost automatically. He had almost maimed Dabi days ago for doing the same thing he had just done.

-

After receiving the envelope with photos, Kurogiri had disappeared into the blackness of the night leaving behind a frantic, inflamed and choleric, Takami Keigo.  

He had scanned quickly all the photos, and there was one—a close-up of your pretty face, flushed and sweaty, eyes close tight while you resisted his energetic thrusts: it was splotchy. A crusty, off-whitey stain splattered across your face in the picture.  

It felt like a blunt punch to his gut. His vision went red when at the tact, he recognized how cum looks like when it dries out.  

This was definitely Dabi´s reckless and mocking, signature.

His wings spread bristly and sharp, buzzing with anger, in a calculated jump leaped off the ground and pulled out his cellphone sending a text message.

Hawks.-

We need to talk.

Typing...

Touya.-

Sure, bucket of chicken, see you at the usual spot.

Hawks's eyes gleamed with cold rage as he sped up toward the meeting place.

“Endeavor saved the day again, with the help of hero Hawks, they rescued a student who was caught in the crossfire of a Nomu attack—” the reporter informed, while recorded scenes of the incident were played on the back. 

Dabi rested his elbows lazily on his knees as he waited for the birdman to show. He must be livid. Dabi thought, amused. His gaze analyzed the footage on the TV. Blue eyes watched Endeavor’s flames burn like a thousand suns, so intense and so irresponsible that if it weren’t for the bucket of chicken, you would have been charred— and that was, when he spotted it.

His bright blue eyes widening at the odd discovery. Rewinding it, he watched it again, and again, and again. The villain recorded every appearance of his father on the TV, to analyze it thoughtfully and so one day fry him to death, properly. 

It was a noticeable and severe, injury.

Endeavor's flames had licked at Hawks’ arm and part of his wing. Nevertheless, in the surveillance photos he had took out of a lucky strike, Hawks didn’t sport those injuries. How had he missed it?

What a peculiar oddity, the raven-haired villain thought, looking at one of the copies he kept for private usage.

The image printed on the paper was a true masterpiece. Dabi knew Hawks from way back, and the second the Hero joyfully requested to be accepted in the league of villains, claiming to the four winds that he wanted to change sides, Dabi knew he was playing the sordid spy. 

Even so, the villain played it by ear, taking advantage of what he could and discarding what was plain garbage. 

These photos, well, this were pure gold.... Hawks finally looked like the villain he pretended to be. Fucking the brains out of the poor student –whom he saved from death earlier– plunging inside your pristine pussy with ferality he had only witnessed when the blond was in heat, all of this at the commodities of some dirty alley. Your pretty face pressed against hard concrete while he carved the shape of his heroic cock deep inside you, more than ten photos supported this indecent act of Hero number two, a whole variety of sexual positions, a real feast to the eyes…. Not even Dabi himself could have done it better.  

The oldest Todoroki chuckled. Wicked gaze set on your pretty face…. What is your quirk? He wondered, obnoxiously intrigued by you.

You were like a mouse in the hawk's claws, squeaking and scurrying about ever so cutely. You had achieved what he never did, make Hawks reveal his darker side in plain light... Bravo! you deserved a standing ovation. Dabi was definitely hooked.

His fat and awfully hard cock pressed against his stomach was proof enough of how much he liked those photos, maybe he could give himself some relief before Keigo arrived, all bristle and aggressive. Dabi wished to welcome his oldest acquaintance, jacking himself off, looking at your pretty face contorted in pain and bliss. 

The smallest of smirks twisted his scarred lips when the wave of air from Hawks harsh landing, blown the skirts of his trench coat. Buh, too late…. 

“Hello there, birdy boy,” Picking the set of photos, stuffed them inside his trench coat and twirled around to meet him. “Tell me, how do you feel after getting your rocks off? —Let me be the first to tell ya, you are glowing.”

Dabi teased, proficiently. He could tell, behind those stormy, golden eyes of his, there were questions brewing. 

“—Who the fuck do you think you are, Dabi?!”

“What did I do?” the villain feigned mocking innocence, looking amusedly offended.

Hawks ignored the vile that dropped down his spine at hearing him replying so unabashedly.

“Do you have people tailing me?!” The blond growled low in his throat, “without a fucking doubt this Nomu attack was your thing-”

“Nah, nah, nah, birdy boy.” He shook his head, playfully. “That has Shigaraki’s signature all over it—don´t blame it on yours truly,” he said it like that on purpose, knowing it will unbalance him and... it did.

Dabi spared a glance his way, with that crazy look on his face he always gave when felt overly amused by a situation and continued explaining. “Dust-face wanted to test his new creation against number one hero... It turned out to be great disappointment.”

“—I bet not as disappointing as your father in you.” Keigo couldn’t stop the snarl that fell from his chest accompanying a wicked twitch on his lip. The blond was blazing with toxic anger, and Dabi entertained his punch under the belt with sadistic silence.

“After fucking a pretty student against her will in some dirty alley, one would think you'll in a better mood.” He grinned his most wicked grin. That comment had irked him. 

Takami Keigo was the only other being alive who knew about his sordid secret past, of course, that sensitive topic would eventually backfire at his face! After all, they used to tousle among the sheets during Hawks’s heats, and those kinds of topics were like their pillow talk. 

If they were a Heroic team, their name would be ‘The Daddy issues duo’. 

Dabi stared at him fully, and there was so much sadism or wickedness in what he said next, that it made his words all the more antagonizing.

“I must admit you picked a pretty one, real pretty girl—” his grin only grew as Hawks’s scowl deepened. “—Let me know more about this little cunt, Keigo. I usually can’t shut you up,” he smirked, reaping some humor from the situation. 

“Go on, I’m intrigued to know how firm her tits were, the tightness of her pussy—was she a virgin? -…” Hawks felt exasperated, almost at the verge of a fit, “... but what am I saying, of course she was! You damn criminal—”

His next words caught in his throat as Hawks rushed to him, in a vicious attack. Even been waiting for it, Dabi had trouble dodging it, his damn feathers were devilishly sharp against his staples.

A feral fight broke out, giant blue flames licked the walls of the abandoned building, thankfully the roof was already destroyed beforehand, otherwise it would have exploded, thus drawing the attention of some unwanted Hero who was patrolling around. 

Hawks viciously attacked him with precise movements, gliding around him and sneaking up to slash his chest with the long feather he was using as a sword. Dabi's agility was nothing to laugh at, anyone else would be cut in half but he only had a scratch, and the mourn of his favorite white shirt.

“You owe me a new shirt, birdbrains—”

The flame-user extended a glowing palm in preparation to attack, and Hawks fell directly into his trap, he dodged, anyway his other palm was already smoking and without preamble the raven-haired fired a puff of blazing blue flames which licked the crimson wings of the hero forcing him to take flight and stay away from him.

From up high, Keigo read the intentions in Dabi’s daring stance, as he calculated the risk of keep on teaching him a lesson. 

“You can’t just keep burning everything around you, Todoroki-” he said up high in the sky, emphasizing his last name since he knew, he hated it. Calculations had been made. 

The blond had decided he wanted to see the villain on his knees and begging for his unreachable forgiveness.

“Says who?” The white-hot glare in his turquoise eyes was as bright as the one on his palm, which smoldered into the bursting blue of flames as it lit up his fingers. “Says you? You stupid overly-sensitive pigeon—” he smirked a snort, looking up at him from the ground. Exposed chest heaving, and palms shining with dancing flames.

“Come down here with me, scared dove. I’m going to roast you! and then I’m going to find that girl, and I’m going to fuck her RAW—” Dabi spread his arms out, theatrically. The stare on his eyes more vicious from the high angle of Hawks. “I think I’ll debut her sweet, virgin asshole, it must be SO tight and warm… by the way, did you like my gift?” 

The banter in his voice made Hawks hiss a low and dangerous curse, and when he peeked down at Touya’s hot glare, those pulsing eyes shone with something beyond just mockery, something akin lust... it was, pure hunger.  

“I had forgotten to thank you Keigo,” He tilted his head tauntingly, in false courtesy. “I didn't even remember when the last time I had rub one out like that—fucking mess I did… next time, I’ll cum in her REAL face.” 

Takami Keigo just saw red, his brain snapped, instincts overcame him. He knew had to be cautious, the black-haired villain was up to something, relentlessly taunting him… nevertheless, his body attacked, unable to control himself. 

“You’re NOT allowed to mention her!” Keigo swooped towards him, “—you’re a piece of shit that doesn’t deserve to even breathe the same air as her!” 

The Hero wheeled around him slicing his trench coat through the back. The black leather fabric hugging his torso slipped to one side, and the photos safely kept in his inner pocket fell to the filthy ground. Hawks's fierce gaze landed on the pictures, and that scarce moment of hesitation was more than enough for Dabi.

Dabi’s flames spread across his wings like fire on dry leaves, the hero fell to the ground, spinning around to put them out and before he could adopt a defensive stance again… Dabi was on top of him. Beautiful cerulean flames licking at his fingers, as a wicked smile stretched across that stapled face.  

“—Oops! looks like I burned your precious wings,” The manic grin on his face had only made Keigo remember his number one rule: never underestimate Dabi. 

The blond just stared up at him, doing his best to stay compose.

“You don’t seem worried…” the villain accused, “I´ve been meaning to mention this: I can't see the wounds that my piece-of-shit father left you yesterday…” the sole of his boot pressed into Hawk’s chest to moved it from side to side while pretending to check, “that’s odd—you ought to solve this riddle for me, birdbrains.”

He stomped on his charred arm making him wince, and leant down to whisper, teasingly. “Do it, and I might even reward you,” he grinned too pleased, “-by letting you suck me off, as you love to.”  

Hawks grunted low, though it wasn’t the timber he had used before, it was different. Genuine displeasure leaked into his voice. “I don’t do that on purpose—”

“Yes, you, fucking do!” Dabi stressed, squatting down over his chest, hovering over the injured Hero. Fingers tensed as flames licked their tips. “Don't know if you heard blondie, but when you are in heat, it´s like if you were made to be fucked and breed by yours truly.”  The broad smirk that shifted his metallic staples made Keigo shift uncomfortably.  

Dabi was actually frustrating him. Hawks just wanted to erase that sly smile from his lips, too sly and self-indulgent, almost as if.... Oh!

To Dabi’s surprise, Hawks started to giggle- it seemed genuine. A real laugh. The blond couldn’t help it. His hunch was awfully hilarious.  

“Is that it, Dabi... really?” he asked, scoffing. A lonely brow raised on the fire-bender’s face, holding something close to bewilderment. “Are you really that jealous that now I have a mate, and I´ll no longer need you to help me with my ruts?” he kept on giggling, openly ignoring Dabi’s deadpanned frown “—how lame…” 

Dabi mumbled something intelligible to then snort and shrug, flatly. Shaking his head while straightening up, and not even a second apart, the kicks began. Each time harder to make sure he hurt the blond, his face never losing the same mask of boredom and indifference he was known for.  

“Don’t flatter yourself, hero imitation, you’re just a cumdump to me…” he informed, almost bored. “A flesh-light, if you prefer. It amuses me to see you squirm like a whore under my touch—"

Dabi wrinkled his nose, and Hawks chuckled, a teasing, annoying sound that only served to make Dabi hiss. 

“Nah, Touya’s jealous of a little schoolgirl,” the blond boasted, “…c’me here, and I’ll even gift you a kiss, so you can stop crying—” 

The blond taunted him sporting a broken lip, blows adorned his jaw, singed wings, and dirty and emaciated suit... Yet, his smile was devastatingly bewitching as he held out his arms, inviting the villain to take the space in between them. 

Dabi snarled, straddling his body once again and delivering withering blows. 

“—I’ll burn that fucking smirk of your ridiculous face, shitty hero.”  

No doubt Hawks knew how to rattle the Todoroki, not many had the ability to make his blood boil.  Hawks covered from the strikes with his forearms, and in a twist, he swiped his leg making Dabi stumble upon himself.

“Don't go around falling for me, Touya-” Keigo shared in all sarcasm and giggles only to receive a square punch in the face. 

Dabi sighed, fed off. “Not everyone is in love with you, you self-centered idiot.” He spat, grabbing Hawk’s jaw inside his fist. “That's why I hate heroes, they fall in love with their own legend—” the flame-user tightened his hand around his jaw and without letting go, hauled him up to face him.

“I'm intrigued, not jealous, you narcissistic jerk... there's a huge, gigantic difference …” Dabi sounded threatening and Keigo’s mouth shaped in the form of an ‘o’ as if realizing the true colors behind Touya’s actions, and just when he thought he had him figured out— his lips slammed against his in a coppery flavored kiss.  

COMING SOON PART 12....

➡️ ARTWORK OF THIS STORY

@wtvbabes @dreamlessnight @naomi1247e @alicecil87 @geniejunn @justanerd1 @bakugosgirl01 @toxicxmindsposts

[system-to-the-madness]

Heart to Heart - Zuko x Reader

Word Count: 2 870 Warnings: mentions of war and death Summary: Zuko and you share a quiet moment at the Western Air Temple A/N: Can be read as a oneshot; Part Five of the series Perfect (10 times Zuko thought you were perfect and the first time he told you)

“So, you decided breaking into a Fire Nation prison would be a good idea, huh?”

Zuko sat at the edge of the ruin of the Western Air Temple, looking out into the valley, his feet dangling in the air. At the sound of your voice, he looked up.

“Well, perhaps not a good idea, but we ended up with pretty good results, I’d think,” he answered, watching as you sat down next to him, your knees pulled up to the chest as if you were cold.

“True, I’ll give you that,” you admitted with a smile. “And I think it’s definitely gotten you some sympathy points from Katara.”

“You think,” Zuko asked hopefully. “I desperately need those. She hates me!”

“Give her time,” you said nonchalantly. “To her you embodied pretty much all that is evil, topped probably only by your sister and your father. She’ll come around.”

“How about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do I embody all that is evil to you, too?”

You turned to look at him, taking in his appearance for a good while, making him self-conscious under your intense eyes.

“For a while you did, I guess,” you answered eventually.

Okay, not the answer he had hoped for, but what had he expected? That you confessed you had always known he was good at heart? Hardly. He had tried to capture or kill the Avatar and his friends a few too many times for that.

“But Katara didn’t see you put yourself in danger to free Appa,” you continued. “It made me doubt the things I knew about you. The conversation you had with your uncle did, too.”

Zuko nodded, turning to watch the sky. A few clouds drifted past, thousands of stars lighting up the night.

"I made a lot of mistakes," Zuko admitted. “I can’t blame any of you for not trusting me, for not wanting to trust me.”

“Things are changing, you know,” you told him, reaching over and gently nudging his shoulder. His breath hitched at the soft contact. “You helped Aang to gain his confidence back about Fire Bending. He still has a long way to go, but it’s amazing that he agreed to try it again in the first place. And it’s kind of reassuring that you’re drawing your power not from anger anymore.”

The last sentence made Zuko smile a little.

“It feels different now, my Bending,” he explained. “Before it always felt violent, and… sort of hard, I guess. Like volcanic glass. Even when I trained it always felt like with each shot I fired, I was kicking or punching against a wall. Now it feels like it’s flowing, somehow. Like the heat and the fire is not some wild animal I have to force out, but a power that bends to my will.”

“That does sound like a big difference,” you agreed.

Zuko shrugged. “I’m still not as powerful as Azula though,” he mumbled. “I had hoped that with the new technique I might gain some ground on her, but it still feels like she’s miles ahead of me.”

“Right, you encountered her when you went ‘fishing’, right?” You drew quotation marks into the air, making Zuko roll his eyes in amusement.

“Yeah, she almost would have caught us, doubtlessly to put us in a snug little fishbowl where she could tease us the whole day.”

“This might sound like a stupid question, but,” you hesitated for a moment, “what would you do if you were more powerful than her, powerful enough to easily best her.”

Confused Zuko turned to you. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… would you try to kill her? Capture her? She’s your sister after all. Even with all the messed-up things she’s done, nobody here expects you to kill her.”

Zuko turned back to look out over the valley. You were right. All this time, for years, ever since childhood, ever since she had first beaten him in training, he had wished he would be good enough to overpower her. But then what?

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “I don’t know what I’d do.”

For a moment he just looked out into the canyon. In the starlight he could faintly make out the other buildings hanging from the ceiling into the abyss. What had it been like when the Air Nomads had still lived here? Every window of every tower must have been lit up, thousands of lights like a mirror of the sky above. Had Sky Bisons roamed between the houses? Drifted slowly through the night? What other animals had populated these temples? Had it truly been as peaceful as he imagined it now to have been? Zuko inhaled deeply.

“The thing about Azula is… I was always chained to her in a way.” He could see you furrowing your brows at him questioningly from the corner of his eyes. “There were no kids my age living in the palace, but Azula had two friends, Mai and Ty Lee. And I was always expected to play with the three of them. Often, I thought it was stupid, they made me feel stupid. I was older than them, and had other interests, but it almost seemed a game to them to find something I hated or would humiliate myself doing… Mai was the only one who would speak up for me sometimes. But only when it was about smaller things; she was too scared of Azula. I can’t blame her. Actually, I ended up dating her for a while.”

“You had a girlfriend,” you asked, but Zuko didn’t notice the hesitation in your voice.

“Yeah, we were together for a while after… after I betrayed my uncle. But I ended things, to join you. She saved our lives, on Boiling Rock. She stopped the guards from cutting the line to the gondola.”

“She sounds like a good person, and brave,” you said quietly. “You must miss her.”

Zuko stayed oblivious to the unasked question in your statement.

“I don’t know… not really. If I’m honest, I’m not even sure why I was together with her,” he shook his head. “It sounds cruel, but the only reason why I got together with her was because it felt like the right thing to do, after returning home. I knew she had always liked me, and somehow, I thought if I were dating someone, it would stabilize the life I was hoping to live. I like her, yes, but not the way you’re supposed to like the person you’re dating. I’m just sorry I was selfish enough to hurt her without a second thought.”

“You’re young, all of us are. I think it’s inevitable to make mistakes when it comes to things like love. Only the luckiest ones can claim to never have hurt someone,” you tried consoling him.

“The thing is, I knew it was going to hurt her. But I kept doing it anyway. Maybe I was hoping my feelings would catch up eventually, but they never did.”

They couldn’t, Zuko thought to himself. Not while the idea of you had taken root in his heart. The thing that made him feel almost the guiltiest, was that even though you were hardly anything like what he had imagined you to be, he still felt enchanted by you. Glancing at you from the corner of his eyes, he only felt his sentiment confirmed. You were sitting there, wrapped in a thin coat to protect you against the chill of the night air, hair dancing slightly in the wind, face glowing from the fresh air and eyes reflecting the stars above. You were beautiful like this, perfect and beautiful. He was sure to never have seen anyone who was as beautiful as you in that moment.

“As I said,” you interrupted his train of enamoured thoughts, “we all make mistakes.”

“Some more than others,” Zuko frowned.

“That’s not what I meant,” you quickly denied. “I didn’t mean-”

“I know, don’t worry,” Zuko sighed. “I’m just upset with myself. I think some things were inevitable along the way. I mean, everyone grows somehow. But breaking Mai’s heart really wasn’t necessary. I could have avoided that if I had been a little more confident in myself.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” you agreed, clearly not sure what else you were supposed to say.

“I’m just hoping, Mai somehow knew we wouldn’t last,” Zuko continued absentmindedly. “We fought, quite often actually. I know I can be difficult, but it also often felt like she didn’t even try to understand me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I know I can get jealous easily, so her anger at me for those instances was probably justified but… sometimes I just need time to think, you know? Not about something specific but… for example there was this war meeting and Azula was invited but I wasn’t. I was upset, because it made me feel like my father was rejecting me all over again, as if I weren’t good enough for him. I was upset and Mai… I know it wasn’t easy for her to see me like that, but it felt like she was trying to distract me so hard. Every time I had a problem or was concerned or worried about something, she tried to cheer me up and distract me, instead of allowing me to just give those feelings space.”

“I know what you mean. Sometimes you just want to give those feelings time, to process everything. Even if it’s difficult. But like you said, it probably was really hard for her to see you unhappy,” you offered your own thoughts, making Zuko nod.

“I guess you’re right. But we ended up getting into disagreements over things like that more and more often. Even if I would have stayed, I don’t think we would have been together for much longer.”

For a while silence settled over you, as you watched the night sky. Zuko wondered why the hell he had just shared all his relationship problems he had had with Mai with you. Maybe because he hoped you would understand him better if he did, would see him more as a human with emotions than the antagonist he had been for you over the past months.

“How about you,” he eventually asked, not sure if he even wanted to know the answer. “Do you have anyone special?”

You shrugged as if it wasn’t somewhat weird for him to ask that.

“Not really. I mean… being on the run from the world’s most powerful army makes it kind of hard to form any meaningful relationships outside of the group,” you answered. “And I don’t mind, really. I’m not like Sokka, who can just flirt with every girl he sees. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable with someone who I haven’t fallen in love with.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“No,” you shook your head, “you?”

Zuko turned to look at you again, taking in your form sitting beside him, knees still pulled up to your chest, chin resting on them, eyes fixed on a point far away.

“No, I mean… maybe once,” he answered. Was he in love with you? He certainly didn’t know you well enough to be in love with you, right? Maybe he was?

“If you don’t know, you probably weren’t,” you chuckled, turning your head to meet his eyes. “I think you’d know when you fall in love.”

“It’s difficult, okay,” Zuko defended, making you laugh quietly.

“Or maybe you’re just bad at figuring out your own feelings,” you offered with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Zuko grumbled and turned his head away embarrassedly. Another gentle shove against his shoulder made him look back at you.

“I’m teasing,” you told him, with a soft smile that made his heart melt. “I’m sorry if I-”

“No, I know, don’t worry,” Zuko took a deep breath. “I’m just not used to being teased without it being with some kind of ill intentions, I guess.”

“Well, Sokka’s gonna get you used to that real quick,” you laughed. By all the spirits, he loved your laugh. “He’s brilliant when it comes to making plans and coming up with ideas, but he’s also the biggest goofball I’ve ever met. He cares more than he tries to let on and is one of the most reliable people I can imagine when things go south.”

“We fought my sister together,” Zuko recalled. “It was weird, a few weeks ago we would have ripped each other apart, but when we went up against Azula together, he really had my back… he makes it very easy to trust him.”

“He does, doesn’t he,” you agreed. “He might not outright say it, but he really appreciated you going to look for his father with him. Thank you.”

“I’m just glad I was able to help. There have been enough families that got torn apart because of me. Knowing I could help reunite at least one is… it feels good.”

You grinned at his side. “It was a brave thing to do, to break into that prison just like that.”

“Brave? More stupid than anything, but thanks.”

“Bravery and stupidity are not as far apart as some would like to believe,” you chuckled, making him smile.

“My uncle would like you,” he confessed, watching your smile shift into a questioning expression. “He’d probably share his wise phrases with you all day long.”

“Your uncle sounds like a good man,” you said, and Zuko nodded.

“I think, I understand him better now than I did before. He lost his son in the war, and he was never the same again. I think, he developed a strong dislike for any kind of conflict and when my father exiled me, he decided to come with me… I don’t know why, maybe to save me from the fate Lu Ten met… I think Uncle Iroh was more a father to me than my own father ever was. It’s strange seeing Sokka and Katara with their father, seeing what normal parents are like with their children. It makes me mad at my father, that he wasn’t like that. Mad and… vulnerable, I guess.”

“I can’t imagine what that’s like,” you mumbled. “I don’t remember much of my father, but even my stepfather was always caring towards me. I’m sorry you didn’t get to experience that.”

“I guess, over time I’ve gotten used to it. Which didn’t stop me from begging for his approval, I’ll admit that. But now… I just hope I can see my uncle again and apologize to him for all I’ve done. After all these years that he accompanied me… I don’t know how I can make up for all the support he has given me, and how I betrayed him.”

“I’m sure when the time comes, you’ll know what to say and do. I think your uncle would be proud to know how you finally stood up for yourself.”

Zuko nodded thoughtfully. He just hoped your words would come true. He didn’t even know where Uncle Iroh was right now, whether he was even alive. If he ever got to see him again… how was he supposed to make up for all his uncle had done for him? How could he ever earn his uncle’s forgiveness after that terrible betrayal?

“Can I ask you something?”

Zuko perked up at your question but nodded.

“Earlier you said… you said your father exiled you,” you carefully asked. “I’d understand if you don’t want to talk about it but…”

“No, it’s fine,” Zuko shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

“Mostly just… what happened?”

“It was… foolish, both of me and my father. It started over-”

Before Zuko could even really begin telling you his story, Toph’s voice carried through the night.

“Katara made hot milk with honey for everyone!”

“Let’s talk another time,” Zuko offered, getting off the ground. His feet felt strange, standing on solid ground again after dangling in the air for so long.

“Another time,” you agreed, taking the hand Zuko had offered you and let him help you to your feet.

Your hand was small and cool in his, and he had to resist the urge to keep his fingers closed around yours, just to feel your skin against his for a short while longer. When he hesitantly let go of your hand, it felt like a wave of ice was spreading from his heart, and he immediately ached for any sort of contact with you again.

He really was an idiot, wasn’t he, he wondered as he followed you past some rubble back to the others, who were sitting around a campfire. Seeing all these people, who so willingly had adopted him into their group, another ache, the warm and gentle kind, spread through his body. After all this time, for the first time in his life, he felt like he truly belonged somewhere. He had earned his place in this group. And when you motioned for him to sit down next to you and offered him a cup with steaming hot, sweet milk, he couldn’t help but think that he didn’t want it any other way.

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[heathermason6060]

Serial Killer!Rick Grimes x f!Reader Smut: Trophies

Warnings/Mentions: Murder, use of alcohol, Rough sex, choking, slapping, biting, hair pulling, spitting, overstimulation, Rick is a sadist in bed and gift giving is his love language, but also just likes to see you wearing belongings of people he's killed

Summary: Rick gets tired of putting his kill trophies in a box, so he puts them on you instead. Then you fuck.

Notes: I finally got around to finishing this yippee! There's 2 smut scenes, first is kind of short and tame, and the one at the end is a few pages long and contains the more aggressive parts. Somewhat proofread!!

There were many routines in your life, and the lives of the people around you. 

Rick was no exception. 

Any time he'd leave the prison he'd go through the checklist in his mind; revolver, ammunition, his machete, water and a little bit of food. 

And his cassette player, with that single tape. 

Every note of the unnamed female's voice was engraved deep into his brain. He knew every hum and breath, every strum of her gentle fingers across her guitar. 

It was just some tape he'd found. Didn't have a sentimental meaning to it from life before, wasn't some artist he was a fan of. He found it in that old rundown music store the two of you spent a night in back in Atlanta, and he took it. 

You'd seen him with it plenty of times but you'd never actually seen him listen to it. You never gave it a second thought until you were on a run together, driving in silence down the long winding back roads.

You asked if he wanted to play his tape on the car stereo, and his friendly calm demeanor was instantly replaced with that look you'd only seen very few times. 

“No.” The look on his face was enough to change your entire mood for the day. 

His later attempts at cheering you up were only met with feigned smiles and laughter, something he was quick to pick up on. 

“Why don't we go see that river you told me about, long time ago.” He looked over at you in the passenger seat, giving you that trademark Rick Grimes smile. 

“Oh, if it's not out of the way, yeah.” You shrugged. It was clear you were still feeling unnerved by the ice thrown in your direction for seemingly no reason.

“If there's as many fish as you said there were, then it don't matter.” 

“Okay, yeah, should be fun.”

Rick grinned when he could sense your attitude reaching a more positive level. “Alright. River first thing in the morning. Know of any place around here we can camp out for the night?”

“There's some old camping grounds a few miles up from the entrance point to the river. They used to set up tents near this fishing shed, tents are probably gone but the shed won't be. There's a few larger cabins up the same road but I have a feeling they're probably occupied. Was a real nice place.”

Rick nodded and continued driving. 

He said, come wander, with me, love

Rick closed his eyes as he sat in the front room in the largest cabin. If his timing was right, they should be walking up the steps now. 

Now at the door. Now opening the door. Now walking in. Now they saw him. 

It was careless, what he was doing. Careless. You were asleep down the road in that little fishing shed, you could wake up at any minute and find the bedroll next to you cold and empty. Get worried, wait a few minutes, then get out your gun and come looking for him. It was stupid. 

He just couldn't help himself. It'd been so long. 

He opened his eyes.

One woman, three men. The first man was scrawny, easy. Rick could take him out with little to no effort. The woman was a bit chubby, but very short. She looked horrified already, she'd be easy too. 

The other two men would be a bit of a challenge. Tall and well built.

Their mouths moved as they stared at the strange man sitting in their house. He could make out a few ‘what’s but that was about it. 

He caught them off guard by walking right up to them. 

First big man caught a knife to the head. The other pulled his gun and shot, barely missing Rick's shoulder. 

Rick yanked the knife free and grabbed a wrist, pinning it against the front door, smashing over and over against the wood until his grip spasmed, and the gun fell with a clatter. 

The woman was pulling at him like a sick dog. He reared back and elbowed her in the face, breaking her nose and knocking her unconscious. She fell to the floor with a thud, and the scrawny man dropped to check on her. 

Rick turned back to the man he had pinned against the wall. He was angry, cursing, little white bubbles of foamy spit spraying from his lips. A trembling hand reached up, desperate to poke an eye or anything that could potentially stun Rick, only succeeding in ripping out the buds in the older man's ears.

He set his jaw as his heart began to race. Now it would get sloppy. 

Rick reared back, and slammed his head forward so hard he felt the bridge of his nose instantly crack against his forehead. Blood spewed from his nose down his face, spraying Rick in the process. 

The man reeled before collapsing. The hard part was over. The easier ones were more of a chore.

Rick stood back and admired his work. 

The woman had a plastic bag over her head, but it was still obvious she'd been bludgeoned. Poor thing, didn't even wake up before she'd been so brutally slaughtered. 

The scrawny man had his neck snapped. It was by complete accident, Rick didn't expect him to be so… fragile. He laid in the living room next to the woman and the first man he'd stabbed. 

Rick looked down at the dog tags in his hand. They were fake, he could tell that much. Ordered at some flea market from cheap metal. The back had worn away to copper.

He balled up the rest of his rope and stuffed it in his duffle bag before finally leaving, the pleads and begging falling on deaf ears.

It took their people three days to find them.

“You, that's the man that killed Javier. I saw you leaving the same night we found him.” 

That didn't alarm you. You knew Rick had killed people before. The words that followed soon after were a different story.

It was the third day of your scavenging run. The first day you spent on the road looking for a spot. The second day you spent on the river, mostly fishing and picking out places on a crinkled old map to go on the third day. 

You'd just woken up, eyes still foggy with sleep as you walked out of the fishing shed to see Rick standing in front of a small group of people.

“Your man was a threat to my people.” Rick used the barrel of his revolver as he spoke like some sort of pointer rod, making the three strangers flinch each time it aimed at one of them. 

“No. You tied him up like a skinned deer, was he still alive when you cut his stomach open?” Their leader's questioning was cut off with a quick gunshot to the head. 

You gasped, not expecting that, and brought your hand to cover your mouth. 

“No!” A blonde woman shrieked and fell to her knees beside her lover's limp body. She looked up to Rick then, venom in her spit as she spoke. “You're worse than the dead ones!”

Rick killed her just as well as the silent man behind her. Then it was just you and him, and now you were the mute.

You weren't thinking, really. Your eyes were still wide and burning from not blinking, staring into the pile of bodies that had been alive only seconds ago. 

“Hey, you alright?” His voice was back to normal and you blinked, seeing he was now knelt beside you with that familiar look of compassion. That was the Rick you knew, not that cold thing that used his body only minutes before. 

“Yeah, just, I wasn't expecting that.” You breathed. Your lips and fingers felt numb, despite it being a warm October day. 

Rick nodded, looking down at the dirt between his feet. He chewed on the inside of his cheek before speaking.

“I keep forgetting you're not as… seasoned as the rest of us.” 

No. That wasn't it.

You were no stranger to killing, but the people you killed were in self defense. 

What Rick just did was cold blooded murder. And the way he made it seem like the most normal thing a man could do had your chest feeling tight.

“I'm hungry.” It was all you could think to say. 

He snorted at that, taken aback by your words. “Hungry? Okay. You okay staying here for a few? I can go search that old country store down the road.”

You nodded, glancing at the bodies only a few feet away. He followed your gaze and squeezed your knee to redirect your attention back to him. 

“Keep your radio on. I'll just be a little while, okay?” He smiled when you nodded. “Don't use your gun unless you have to.”

You were thankful he drug the bodies away before he left. 

Come wander with me. 

Rick took a deep breath.

It had been two weeks, his self control was slowly slipping. He'd gone a year without killing once, when Carl was born. At the time it was easy. 

The old brown house, threatening to crumble at any moment from the massive amounts of dry rot and termites, was a perfect place to look for people out on their own. They loved staying in the inconspicuous hole in the walls, places that you would never notice unless you were desperate and terrified. 

He moved out of the shadows and dug his knife into the base of a skull. They died in his arms and he held them there, closing his eyes as the struggles grew weaker and weaker, until they finally stopped all at once.

He opened his heavy lids to see a woman screaming, her hands covering her mouth from the opposite side of the small living room.  The buds in his ears prevented him from hearing most of it. 

Rick let the lifeless body slide from his arms, and stood. He was quick as he walked towards her, grabbing her by her hair and letting out a disappointed ‘tsk’ at her state of shock. She could have easily escaped but she chose to stay there and wail.

He came from the sunset, he came from the sea.

Rick held her against his chest as she squirmed in his arms, pounding her fists against his chest, her movements futile, weak from starvation and dehydration. He closed his eyes again as he held her there, dragging his knife up the base of her spine. He could hear her screams now, they'd transformed from anger to terror, dry screeches as she pleaded for her life.

Rick found his thoughts drifting to you, and now it was your voice humming in his ears, replacing the unknown feminine voice he'd grown so accustomed to. 

You truly were a sight to behold. Even if it was just in his mind. 

A sharp kick to his knee snapped the image of you out of his mind, and sent him into a state of anger. He opened his eyes and gritted his teeth before yanking her head to the side, looking down at her soft tanned skin. 

A mother Mary coin sat at the base of her throat, dangling on a thin chain, only for a second before Rick gently took it off. 

She jerked against him as she realized she was bleeding, streams of warm blood gushing down her neck and chest. 

Her already weak movements became weaker as she bled out, only managing to give a last ditch attempt of escape when his knife was removed from her throat. Her jerking against him stilled, and he pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes glued to hers as he watched her blue eyes turn glossy.

Rick took the earbuds from his ears and put them in the back pocket of his jeans, along with the necklace. 

He wouldn't need to put his trophies in a box anymore.

You smiled in surprise as you looked at the jewelry in your open palm. 

“Do I seem the religious type?” You mused, running your finger over the gold oval. Mother Mary. You didn't expect Rick to think of you when seeing something like that. 

“No.” He hummed, a soft smile on his lips. He looked so sweet then, the orange reflections of the campfire dancing across his face. 

You wanted to question him, ask him where he found it and why he decided you were fit to wear it, but your lips closed when he moved to put it around your neck. 

He was gentle, gentle as he moved your hair over your shoulder, and gentle as he closed the clasp and brushed your hair back in its original position.

“Thanks Rick. It's really pretty.” Your fingers stroked the charm at your neck, the metal warm from being in his back pocket. You decided then you didn't care to know about the where or the why, the hows or why there was dried blood on the back of it. 

“Dinners ready. Go get Daryl and come eat.” He brushed your hair behind your ear and smiled. He was looking at you, but not really looking at you. 

“Okay.”

You managed to drag Daryl down from the watchtower for dinner without much complaining. But to your confusion, the group only stayed around the table for about ten minutes to chat, eat their roasted trout and canned asparagus, and then they left. Not one at a time either. 

When you finished the last few bites of your dinner, Rick took you into the warden's office, a nice secluded space with comfortable chairs and a pretty brown desk table.

You looked up from the table to see Rick walking back with a bottle of wine in hand, a sly smile on his face.

You raised a brow and smirked as he poured it into two plastic cups, setting yours in front of you before sitting down. 

“This what I think it is?” You teased, taking a sip of wine to cool your nerves. You were anxious as hell, although your calm and amused exterior didn't show it. 

Was Rick Grimes, leader of your group, seriously flirting with you? Beyond the usual innocent playfulness? 

“Depends on what you think it is. Date? Yes. Work conference? No.” He took a sip. 

“So, you just tell them all to stay away from here? They know?” You suddenly blushed at the idea of the group knowing Rick was sweet on you. It felt like dating the cool kid in school all over again. 

“Well, not exactly that, but yeah, they know.” He looked at you then in a way that made you nervous. It was the way he used to look at Lori. All soft eyed and smiles.

You barely knew him, like really knew him, you hung around Carol, Carl and Glenn more than anyone else, it just felt too out of place for you to hang out with Rick or Daryl. That role was better suited for Maggie or Michonne. 

When he had asked you to go out on that run a few days ago with him, just him, you were stunned. And now here he was, serving you dinner and fancy wine like you were his wife. 

“Why? I mean, why me?” 

He furrowed his brows and looked at you thoughtfully, as if he didn't quite know the answer himself. He took another sip of wine before answering. 

“I don't know why. I just know I like you.” 

You grinned a bit at that. “You like me, huh? It's cause of my Kardashian looks isn't it?”

Rick laughed and shook his head. “Kardashian looks huh? Yeah, sure.” 

The tension from your end quickly faded the more you talked. 

You couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of guilt the more Rick flirted with you. Lori had died not too long ago, and even though he seemed completely fine, you worried it was him finding unhealthy ways to cope. 

You didn't know he already had a lifelong coping mechanism, and you were another thing entirely. 

Murder was always common in the apocalypse. You'd seen more victims of humans than you could count. 

Moving into Alexandria though, it seemed like almost every time you went outside the walls you'd find a new dead body a few miles away, obviously done by a human and not the dead.

“Jesus.” Daryl muttered, using a stick to move a dead man's head to the side, showcasing the dramatic knife wound to his cheek. 

“They're getting closer to home.” You muttered, looking down at the body near your feet as Daryl poked at it. 

“Yeah.” He agreed. He dropped his stick and stood up, shaking his head. “Sorry sonvabitch that did this better hope he don't come any closer.” 

That night Rick gave you another piece of jewelry. A silver thumb ring, long but not visually remarkable. 

“This is actually really pretty.” You said as you slipped it on your thumb, opposite hand of the other ring Rick gave you in the past. 

“Yeah?” Rick grinned, looking over his shoulder as he took the dishes from dinner to his sink.

He'd invited you over for dinner. You appreciated it, it had been a while since you had time alone with the man. You'd begun to miss him and his daring flirtation. 

“Yeah, don't need to worry about it snagging on anything either. Can wear it when I go out.” Your fingers continued fidgeting with the ring, spinning it around your thumb as you watched him clean up. 

He dried his hands and walked over to you, offering out a hand, an act that made your stomach do flips. “I'm glad you like it.”

You took his hand, warm, his fingers so large and thick they made yours look like they belonged to a pianist in comparison. 

He led you from your seat at the dining room table to his living room, leaving you on the couch while he went to dig through a basket.

You watched him from your spot on the couch as he put a DVD in the player under the living room tv. You wondered then, would they be gone all night? Carl, Michonne, Daryl? Did he tell them to find somewhere else to sleep for the night? 

You blushed wildly at the idea of everyone in Alexandria knowing Rick was trying to have sex with you. 

“How long will they be gone?” You blurted.

Rick turned to you after turning on the TV, a brow raised. “Couple hours. Why?” 

“Well, if it's gonna be a sleepover I gotta get my stuff.” You laughed nervously, cursing yourself for sounding so awkward and timid. 

“I didn't plan on it, but,” he groaned dramatically as he plopped down onto the cushy couch next to you, “-the idea is tempting.” 

You realized you were wrong in your assumption that he was trying to get laid. Fuck. That was embarrassing.

He seemed open to it though, right? Or were you just so touch deprived that you were fooling yourself into reading him the wrong way?

You watched the first Twilight movie and laughed most of the time, but you caught Rick watching intently at the baseball scene. 

“I'm so pissed the outbreak had to happen when it did. We were two months away from the sequel. Two months! That means they finished it and it's on some hard drive somewhere, never to be seen.”

Rick smiled at your complaining, that same look of strange admiration on your face. 

You still didn't know how to react to it, on one hand, it was extremely flattering and you were starting to get turned on, but on the second hand it rationally was a little off-putting. Maybe he really did just have a thing for you, maybe it was just as simple as that. 

His gaze should've made you blush and swoon, and it definitely did, but… there was something about it that set your teeth on edge. Far too intimidating.

“Maybe we'll find it one day.”

“That would be the day we have a real slumber party. Popcorn, sodas, everything.”

“Yeah? Gonna braid each other's hair too?” He teased.

You scoffed and playfully punched his shoulder. The man didn't even budge, like he was made of stone. “Can you braid?”

“Damn good at it.”

You gaped at him in amused disbelief. “No shot!” 

“C'mere.” Rick's knees spread and he tapped his shoe on the floor between his feet. 

You gulped some wine before quickly shrugging, and got on the floor, your feet tucked neatly under your butt. 

His hands felt illegally good. He brushed your hair over your shoulders and ran his fingers through it, from your roots down to the ends. Each time his fingertips ran down your scalp you were given a fresh wave of goosebumps, and when they brushed against the back of your neck you visibly shivered. 

Rick wasn't lying. He managed to give you a beautiful braid, working with what was given to make something you'd be happy to wear on a fancy date. You ran your fingers over the braid and scoffed in shock. 

“It's so pretty.” You admired the way the necklace he had given you back at the prison was on full view, no longer hidden or covered by your hair. It sat right at your collarbone, and the neckline of your black and red dress framed it perfectly.

When Rick said ‘wear something nice’ for dinner you immediately panicked and went to Rosita. She picked out a beautiful dress for you, it was classy but not over the top, pretty to look at but also comfortable to lay around in. 

You looked at him in the mirror in front of you. He was looking at you again, but different this time. 

Less wholesome admiration, more… desire. He had little readable expression but the bit you could read had your lower stomach flipping with excitement. 

You turned to face him and took a second to appreciate the way the black button up shirt hugged his muscles just so slightly. It wasn't the cover of some smutty werewolf or vampire novel, but fuck, it had your knees feeling weak. 

“Told you.” 

It took you a moment to process what he meant, but when you did, you smiled and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, you did. Where'd you learn to braid like this?”

“Same place they taught me how to pick up women.” He winked. You both laughed. 

You ended up back on the couch with a different movie put in. Neither of you were paying any attention to it though, your focus slowly shifting to each other.

“Think they'll be back soon?” You had the courage to flirt all of a sudden. 

Maybe it was the wine that had loosened you up, or maybe it was the fact he looked so hot in that shirt and smelled like sandalwood and jasmine. 

“Hm, maybe.” He flirted back, an edge of tauntful tease to his voice. “Why?”

“Well, usually after a date goes this well…” You trailed off and wiggled your eyebrows. Your boldness surprised the both of you, and he couldn't help but chuckle. 

“Yeah? What's that?” He hummed, his smile slowly fading when he looked from your eyes to your lips. 

“Girl shows the guy a good time.”

“That right?” He leaned in, and you could smell his cologne stronger than before. You closed your eyes and bit back a sigh. 

“Maybe, I don't know. Never been on a date this good.” You leaned in, mirroring his movements, looking down to his lips. 

“How about the guy shows the girl a good time, huh? How about that?” His voice was breathy then, warm and smelling like expensive wine. 

You nodded and he smiled, breaking past the last few inches to kiss you. 

He was so soft. His hands cupped your cheeks with a featherlight caress, and his lips were equally as gentle. He moved them against yours, his tongue slipping out to trace along your wine stained lips. You parted your lips and moaned at the feeling of his tongue in your mouth. 

Rick guided you on your back, just as gentle as every man you'd seen on all those romance movies you pretended to cringe at. His hand under the small of your back had a wave of wetness seeping out of you, you had underestimated how truly touch starved you were. 

It wasn't long before he had led you up to his bedroom. You were astonished at how neat everything was. Bed was made, sheets looked fresh out of the wash. 

He had his revolver laid out on his dresser along with a few other melee weapons, his machete, axe, and a long dagger. Everything was perfectly organized. 

And there, in the duffel bag peeking out from under his bed, sat his cassette player. 

Once the door was closed behind him he wasted no time in undressing you, popping open the buttons on the back of your dress. He moved slow and meticulously, brushing the sleeves off your shoulders to plant a few kisses on the warm skin there. 

You sighed at his touch and pressed your back against his chest, aching to feel him envelop you in his warmth. 

He took his hands away from your sides to unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt but you turned and placed your hand on top of his. He looked at you curiously and you returned a sheepish smile. 

“You look really good in these clothes.” 

He grinned when he realized your intentions and he left his shirt buttoned, save for the three at the top. 

Rick looked unbelievably sexy then, a few golden curls of chest hair visible from the slit in his shirt, his hair slightly ruffled from your hands, and a face so blown with lust that you could touch yourself to it for more than one orgasm. 

Then he had you on his bed sprawled out for him, your arms lying above your head as you watched him unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants. When he pulled the zipper down, and pulled his cock out, you literally whimpered at the sight. It was beautiful, like the picture perfect example of a male penis. Perfect girth, perfect length, even the mess of brown and blonde pubes were stunning. 

You could go on forever about Rick Grimes’ dick. 

He gave a smug smirk as he moved to take his place over you, pulling down your dress the rest of the way and immediately planting his smug little face between your legs. 

You gasped and threw your head back against the mattress. He nuzzled your clothed clit with his nose, inhaling your scent and sneakily stroking his dick with his right hand. With the other he held onto your left thigh, fingers digging into the skin there.

He took his time working you up, licking and sucking and even once nipping your clit through the fabric of your panties. 

You were a whimpering mess by the time he pulled his head away and went to take your panties off. 

He stopped your hand and you looked up at him, brows furrowed. 

“These look really good on you.” He smirked. 

Your head fell back into the mattress when he pulled your panties to the side. Thank GOD you took the cute panties Rosita offered you. If you were wearing one of your practical sets of underwear you would've died from embarrassment.

He rubbed his finger through your folds, gathering your slick to rub across your clit. You let out a pathetic whine and grabbed fistfuls of cotton sheets beside your head. 

He took his time. He slipped in his middle finger up to the knuckle, curling it painfully slowly. Bless Lori, or whoever the fuck taught him that. You were definitely coming tonight. 

“Rick, ah, mmm, god.” A hot puff of air from your lips blew a stray lock of hair from your face, a result from your braid having become messy. 

He tsked once and drew his finger back, wiping the wetness off on the head of his cock. 

You were basically on the edge of your seat at this point, leaning up on your elbows to watch every move he made. 

He ran his hands over your torso, ignoring your breasts which made you whine in disappointment. 

His eyes flicked up to you, and you were filled with an unexplainable sense of anxiety. Like there was something in you, dating way back to when you needed instincts to survive. Your instincts were telling you that you needed to leave, now. You were in danger. 

Every hair on your arms, thighs, the back of your neck, they all prickled. Your upper lip twitched, as if it wanted to pull back and show him your teeth.

“You just tell me to stop, and I will, okay?” His voice was low. 

Your blood ran cold.

“What?” You whispered, your bottom lip trembled, and you found breathing became a difficult task. 

He repeated himself, his voice still just as low, that same dangerous look on his face. He moved quickly. 

He was inside you before you had time to adjust, his hand covering your mouth to muffle the pained noises you made. He groaned into your neck and buried himself deeper inside you, his dick twitching as your walls spasmed around him. He pulled out slowly, savoring the tight drag of your hot cunt, before plunging back in. 

Rick was rough, rougher than you could have ever predicted. It was so strange, earlier he was so soft and gentle. He fucked you hard and rough like that for a few long minutes before flipping you over on your stomach. 

His hands were on your hips. His fingers digging painfully into your soft skin. He used his upper body weight to render your lower half helpless beneath his open palms. 

He groaned as he watched his dick disappear back into you, his eyebrows knitted tightly together and his mouth hanging open. 

“Je-jesus christ.” Your moan was strangled in your throat as his hands closed around your neck. 

You didn't have time to take a preparation breath, he squeezed quick and hard, immediately cutting off all blood and air flow to your brain. You tried to pry his fingers away and off of you but he didn't relent, only squeezing harder. 

Your vision blurred and your head swam with thick panic, you dug your fingernails into the back of his hand until his grip loosened.

The lungful of air you sucked in felt fresher than any breath you'd ever taken. You didn't have long before his fist was in your hair, yanking your head to the side to stuff your discarded panties into your mouth. 

You whimpered in protest but he just shoved your face into his pillows and plowed deeper into you. 

It wasn’t quick at all, quite the opposite. 

He fucked you like that for what felt like hours. It was realistically maybe twenty minutes, but that was still a long time to get fucked. 

Your body trembled underneath him from the exhaustion of back to back orgasms. He had already came inside you once, and you felt a small sense of relief, but he didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. He just moaned into your neck and continued battering your insides.

You were spent. Every part of your body ached, your pussy felt raw and your clit throbbed painfully. Your stomach and chest chafed against his comforter, and right before it got too much he flipped you over.

Rick looked down at you like you were a painting he finally finished after months of perfecting.

He slid his warm rough hands over your chest, pinching your sore nipples, squeezing your red breasts. 

His eyes found your necklace and he rolled his hips, earning a muffled whine in response. Then they found the ring on your middle finger, and rolled into you again. The thumb ring on your other hand. Your body shivered when he slammed his pelvis forward.

You couldn’t respond in any way, you pulled your panties from your dry mouth and panted, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

He changed completely after he finished. He peppered kisses all over you, sweet and soft against your cheeks, down your neck and chest, tender and soft on your nipples. 

He took care of you after, he cleaned you with a cool rag and brought you one of his white t shirts to change into. He silently asked you to stay the night with more gentle kisses after you attempted to leave.

You shouldn't have been snooping, you knew it was wrong.

The song felt chilling after what you’d witnessed throughout your time in knowing him, and the night you'd shared. 

You sat at the foot of his bed and listened, unaware of the way your fingers had begun to twitch around the tape player. 

Something about it felt wrong, like you were listening to Gloomy Sunday after hearing the legend surrounding it as a child again. Your heart raced as the song finished and you put the cassette player back where you found it, in his duffle bag at the foot of his bed. 

You made it down the stairs before you rounded the corner and smacked right into a large chest. 

“Jesus woman.” 

You let out a breath when you saw it was Daryl. Covered in dirt and smelling like cigarettes and gasoline, a familiar sight that sets you at ease. 

“Shit, sorry.”

He'd been slightly annoyed at the way you startled him, but something had caught his eye and his irritation faded. 

“Y'alright?” He grunted, looking at you with a raised brow. 

“Yeah, I'm okay.” You nodded. He eyed you suspiciously before leaving without a goodbye, heading up the stairs to Rick's room. 

“He's not here.” 

He stopped in his tracks and turned to look down at you. “Where's he at then?”

“I don't know.”

You found out the reason for his staring when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror. You'd need to wear turtlenecks for the next few days. 

Rick was thrown off his game without his music. He was more aggressive, sloppy, and hateful in the way he killed. 

“Please!” His voice sounded pathetic. It made Rick curl his top lip in disgust as he watched him squirm against his restraints, the bodies of his loved ones littering the ground next to him. 

“Don't leave me here.” He begged as the chill of night crept through the thick trees they found themselves in. It carried the smell of rain, rotten leaves and cigarette butts. 

“Give me one good reason.” Rick held his bloodied machete as he observed the man. 

Young, maybe early twenties. Black hair, a black ‘beard’, which was too patchy to really qualify as one, and an orange sweater. The sweater had been mostly stained a reddish brown from his blood, and the blood of his friends, which all had the mercy of a better fate than what awaited him.

His body sagged as he twisted against the pine, his wrists burning and bruising from the frayed rope. 

“I'm a good man. Never done anything wrong. Never killed, never raped anyone-”

“Aw, well, ain't that nice of you?” Rick sneered, slipping the machete in the back of his belt. “How gracious.”

“I got a dog, man, please.”

Rick chewed on the inside of his cheek before taking his machete back out again. 

The man erupted into more begging and crying as Rick approached him. He let out a short lived scream before looking down to see his hands were now freed and in front of him. 

“Wh-”

“Ten seconds.” Rick's revolver felt firm in his grip. “Ten,”

The man stood stunned for a moment, holding his aching wrists, his eyes darting from Rick to the bodies at their feet. 

“Nine.” Rick's voice was louder then, like a father giving his child one last warning to start acting straight. 

“Eight!” 

The man took off through the woods, and there was no reason to count any longer. 

You ran your fingers over the cold metal in your hands. It was stunning, something you never would've dreamed of holding before the outbreak. A gold chain, thin but strong. Not dainty enough that it could be broken off with a snag.

Small red beads dangled from the chain, twelve rubies spread out along the length. They looked like little drops of wine.

“Where did you get this?”

It was the first time you'd asked him a question before thanking him for his gifts. 

He silently took the bracelet from your hands and clasped it around your wrist, his fingertips ghosting over the veins of your arms.

“In a jewelry box. That neighborhood I stopped at last week.”

You watched his fingers part from your wrist and the dangling rubies sway. You knew it was a lie. 

“You ever get stuff like this for anyone else?” 

He chuckled and leaned back on the couch, his eyes never leaving your form. “No.”

You looked over your shoulder at him and sighed, unable to keep the smirk from spreading on your face when you saw the way he was looking at you. “You know, I really like sweets too.” 

He raised a brow and broke into a grin. “Sweets, of course,right. What, chocolates? Candy?”

“Mhmm. Dark chocolate with sea salt. Or, chocolate with raspberries.” Your mouth watered as you recalled the old luxuries you'd once taken for granted. 

“Alright. Noted.” 

Being alone with Rick in his house was something that should've scared you. Especially considering what you'd seen in the past, and the darker side of him in bed. 

But looking at him in his form fitting white tee-shirt, the fireplace covering him in a warm orange glow, your degenerate lust filled brain made none of that matter. 

“C'mere.” His hand beckoned you to him from its spot on the back of the couch. 

You hesitated for appearances, not wanting to come off too eager, before eventually giving in and leaning back. 

His arm slipped from the couch above you and wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace. 

You rested your cheek on his chest and inhaled the smell of his cologne. It was deep and dark, you recognized it as his bottle of  “Leather and Embers”, whatever the hell that meant. As you savored the smell he pressed his face into your scalp and soaked in your smells, rose and eucalyptus shampoo, wisteria lotion. It was so light and feminine and so utterly you that just the smell made his dick twitch in his jeans. 

“Gonna go on a supply run with a few others tomorrow. Need some ammo. You wanna join me?”

“Depends.” You pretended to think about it for a second, a playful smirk on your lips. “Who’s all going?”

Rick hummed and squinted, playing along with your thoughtful act. “Me, Carol, Aaron, Glenn, Maggie. Daryl might come, hasn’t decided yet.” You snorted at the idea of Daryl ever turning down work. 

“All of us gonna fit in that itty-bitty car?”

“Taking separate cars. Cover more area that way.” His hand gave your shoulder a slight squeeze and you looked up to see him leaning in for a kiss. You met him halfway and smiled against his lips as his other arm wrapped around you.

You grinned, full of pride, as you walked through the gap between two small houses to find Rick, holding two ammunition boxes. One was half full of buckshot shells, the other completely full of 9mm ammo.

He started searching the first house on the block, so he should be at the third right about-

You froze in the doorway as you took in the scene in front of you. 

You could see the back of Rick standing in the center of the dining room, the bodies of one man and two women laid across the long table in front of him. 

He was taking earbuds out from his ears and putting them into his back pocket, his hands so covered in blood that his fingers seemed to melt together. 

You must've made a noise because he turned around. 

What was once a look of serenity instantly turned like the tides of an ocean. His eyes no longer resembled a warm blue sky, instead a clash of dark and stormy gray.  

His lips moved in the form of your name, but you didn't react. 

You looked from body to body, taking in the gruesome ways they'd been killed. One woman had her throat slit with so much force that you could see bone. 

Another had countless stab wounds in her chest and a few on her neck. It looked angry, and much more violent than anything you'd ever been unfortunate enough to see.

 The man had been gutted, his organs sloshing out of him to lay between his body and what you assumed to be the body of his wife.

Your body didn't react when his hands grabbed your shoulders. You didn't even notice that he'd approached you, his hands raised, his knees slightly bent to make himself appear smaller, less of a threat.

When he turned you around to lead you out of the house you caught a glimpse of three chocolate bars in a plastic bag sitting at the front door. 

“I need you to look at me.”

You blinked and took in your new surroundings. You were sitting on the hood of your car, his bloodied hands on your knees. The contrast of deep red against your skin had a groan catching in your throat. 

Rick's voice snapped your name and you looked to his face. He looked prepared, as if he'd imagined this scenario countless times before. 

“What you just saw-”

“I know.”

“No, you don't. I had to, I-”

“Rick.” The coldness of your voice had him forgetting the way he'd been frustrated at you for interrupting him again. “You don't lie to me. Not me.” 

His face softened, but he felt an uncomfortable tightening in his throat and chest. He nodded, his eyes falling away from yours to look at your knees. 

When he saw the blood he drew his hands away as if he'd been stung. 

“You killed them and you liked it.”

As quick as a snake his hand shot out and grabbed the base of your throat. His eyes were back on yours now, freezing you with a cold stare. “It’d be in your best interest to forget what you saw here.” 

Your body didn't react the way either of you expected it to. You grabbed at his wrist and let out a whimper, your thighs clenching together so hard they trembled. 

His grip loosened as he saw your form tremble under him, not from fear, but arousal. He furrowed his brows and looked back to your eyes, studying each and every flicker in them. 

It was an unsteady standoff, neither of you knowing which move to make next. He experimented and tightened his hand again, earning another whimper from your lips. 

He took it a step further and with his other bloodied hand, he slipped his fingers between your knees, gently spreading them apart. 

With your thighs spread he filled the gap with his waist. He hooked two fingers in the belt loops of your shorts and tugged you down the hood closer to him, your pelvis bumping against the semi he had growing in his jeans. 

Rick groaned at the contact and leaned in to plant his face in the crook of your neck, his hand departing from your throat to trail down your chest. He toyed with the gold coin of your necklace, rubbing his fingertips over the warm metal. 

“Rick-”

“No, shh-shh-shh, you were being so good.” He groaned, his jeans rubbing your thighs as he softly pushed against you.

“I just, a shower, let's wait-” 

He growled in your ear and squeezed your thighs so tightly you let out a yelp. “No, think I'll have you right here.” 

His words sent a shiver down your spine and before you could react, he pushed you flat on your back. 

You were finally there, your muscles relaxing and your eyes closing, ready to surrender to Rick and let him have his way. But as always, something had to go wrong. 

The gurgling sound of a walker snapped you from your daze. 

Rick pulled away from you and used the machete from his belt to take out the first two. 

“Rick!” You called in a nervous voice, your eyes locked on the group of walkers behind the car. 

“Shit. Alright, get in.” He cursed and opened the passenger door for you. You slid into the seat, pulling your knees back just in time to avoid the heavy metal door being slammed after you. 

Your eyes followed Rick round the front of the car. Then, as if he was playing some weird joke, he took his hand back from the door handle and ran back into the house.

“Fuck.” You whispered, watching three walkers follow him to the door. You had your hand on the car door handle, ready to jump out after him and help, but before you could dig out your knife he reappeared in the doorway.

You shook your head when he finally sat down beside you and started the car. 

He plopped the bag in your lap and you stared down at it. 

The three chocolate bars. 

“I know you said dark chocolate, salt and raspberries n’whatnot. But this is all I could find.” He said it like he was apologizing, like he was dissatisfied with his findings. 

“Rick, I haven't had chocolate in so long that it could be some nasty rainbow white chocolate with sprinkles and I'd love it. Fuck.” You unwrapped the first bar and snapped off a small square. 

As soon as it hit your tongue you moaned, completely forgetting the scene from earlier. It was your favorite type, something you hadn't had in God knows how long. 

Rick smiled fondly as you swirled the chocolate around your tongue, looking at you the same way he'd looked at you at dinner, the same way he used to look at Lori. 

You were blissfully unaware, your eyes closed as you savored the flavor.

He bit his bottom lip and looked back to the road ahead, slowing down as he passed the road that the others had gone down. 

He raised a hand out the open window to Glenn, who'd returned a thumbs up, going inside to gather the others to head back home.

“Want a bite?” 

You smiled sweetly as he looked back to you and the open Butterfinger that was in your left hand, your favorite chocolate in your right. 

“Indulging ourselves, are we?” He smirked playfully as he took the Butterfinger from you and took a heaping bite. It was so big he'd taken half the bar and you scoffed, smacking his shoulder. 

“Geeze! Talk about being indulgent!” You teased and snatched the chocolate back, finishing it off with three more bites. 

 You ate your sweets in silence, and soon it had turned from a comfortable silence to a thick cloud of tension when you pulled up to the gates of Alexandria.

He called your name and you forced yourself to look at him. 

Rick's expression was hard to gauge. 

It almost seemed like a mask, now that you'd seen what he was capable of doing, it felt like you were sitting beside a stranger. Your heart sped up, you were suddenly scared of saying or doing the wrong thing, sending him into aggression or something worse. 

“Yeah?” Your voice sounded foreign to you. Almost as foreign as the way Rick was looking at you. 

He waited a few painfully long moments before the essence of a smirk formed on his lips that were still speckled with blood. “I'm making dinner tonight. You should come.”

You blew out a lungful of air and nodded. “Okay, yeah, I will.”

“Wear somethin’ nice.” His voice was barely a whisper. You didn't have time to ask him to clarify before the gates opened and he drove you in. 

You felt a bit ridiculous in your dark blue dress. It was extremely snug, almost uncomfortable, ending right at your knees, drawing attention to the curve and dip of your hips and waist. There was no one else for dinner, thank god, because you felt seconds away from a panic attack.

Fettuccine noodles with Carol's homemade alfredo sauce. Despite your painful anxiety you wolfed the creamy noodles down, along with a heaping glass of dark red wine. 

It was painfully tense. You found yourself wondering how the car ride home had been completely fine, it hadn't been awkward at all, not until you pulled up to the gates. It might have been the adrenaline and shock. 

Now it had worn off and you were finishing your second glass of wine, praying for the buzz to kick in so you wouldn’t feel like you were on the verge of an anxiety attack anymore. 

“Can we talk?” His voice made you jump. You looked up from your empty plate to his face, which had been thoroughly cleaned of the blood from earlier.

You didn't respond verbally. You gave a small nod and he inhaled deeply, his eyes falling from your face to the table. 

After a moment he looked back up to you. 

“I need to know you won't… you won't tell anyone. Things are still pretty tense here, these people already see me as someone to watch out for. I don't need them fearing me.”

“Fear could be a good thing.” You don't know why you said it. 

He managed a slight smile, clasping his hands together in front of his chin. “Yeah. It can be. But not this type of fear.”

“So what are you? Jack the ripper of the apocalypse?”

Rick cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. He folded his arms across his chest, his fingers tapping on his biceps, covered in a thick black sweater. 

“Alright. Nevermind.” You sighed. You finished off your wine and scratched your chin absentmindedly, still looking at his face. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Long time.”

You managed to hide your shock, and nodded. “Before the outbreak?”

He nodded, his eyes not leaving the silverware crossed over his empty plate. 

He didn't look guilty or ashamed like one logically should be. A bit uncomfortable, uncertain, a hint of worry and dread. You knew he was praying this conversation would go well and he wouldn't have to do anything devastating to secure keeping his position in the group as the fearless, honorable leader. 

“Did Lori know?”

Now he looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “No.” Of course she wouldn't have, what a stupid question. 

“Okay.” It was quiet until you finally gained the courage to address the elephant in the room. “Rick, are any of us in danger?”

Your question caused a drastic change in his demeanor. He leaned forward with an expression that was a mix of hurt and assurance, and you already knew the answer. 

“No, of course not.” He breathed, his hands tentatively crossing the table. “I would never hurt any of you people. You're my family. All of you. Even those,” he waved a hand over his shoulder, “stuck up pricks Deanna led.”

You wanted to believe him. You had no choice, honestly, you had no other option. You knew Rick was a good leader, even if he made rash and emotional decisions. He always listened to the opinions and advice of others, he always took their says into account. If he hadn't done it this far, there was no reason to believe he'd start doing it now that you knew. 

You weren't justifying it by any means. What he did was vile, monstrous, egregious. Nothing would ever change that. It just wasn't the old world anymore, you had bigger problems to worry about, as ironic as it sounded. 

“Okay.” 

You closed your eyes as he rounded the table and put his hands on your shoulders. You wished you could just turn your brain off, wipe your memory and forget, and your stomach churned with nausea. Not at the memory or knowledge of his little weekend hobby, but at the realization that it didn't bother you as much as it should've.

“Can I make it up to you?” His breath warmed your ear as his palms slid up and down your biceps. 

God, you were sick. You were disgusting. 

“Yeah.”

Carl was home, and so were Carol, Michonne and Daryl, so you led him back to your house across the street. 

Your house was almost an exact mirror image of his, same porch, same paint, same layout and everything. In fact, your bedroom window was a straight shot across from his. 

You shivered, remembering the times you'd play with him through your window, randomly flipping him off or giving him a thumbs down for no reason at all. It was so innocent.

A tingle spread through your core knowing the man who'd make silly gestures and faces at you through his window at night just to see you laugh was the same man who had gutted humans for kicks. 

You stood in your room, looking at his black window across the street as his hands worked to free you from your tight dress. He chuckled at the sight of your ass stuffed in the fabric, running his hands down your waist to grab the bottom of your dress and pull up. 

“Where'd you get this thing?” He mused, attempting to fix your hair from the battle of pulling it over your head. 

“Tara. She found it on a run, said the color suited me.” You snorted.

His arms wrapped around your now bare body, hands cupping the soft flesh of your breasts and kneading. 

“Hmm.” His face nuzzled in the back of your hair, inhaling your clean scent and enjoying the way it felt against his skin. You were just his polar opposite, so soft, sweet, where he was hard and rugged. So kind, patient, his pretty feminine contrast. 

You were trying so hard to hold it together and not beg him to fuck you the same way he'd fucked you the other night. You craved it. 

Ever since he had you that night you craved it. Craved the raw pain and utter helplessness. You craved more.

“Rick.” You whispered, placing your hands over his, their position still tender and gentle over your chest. 

“Hmm?” The sudden feeling of his knee between your thighs made you moan. He pressed it up higher, pushing firm against your panties, the soft gray pair that was far too tiny to wear in any other scenario. 

He grinned against the back of your neck at the realization, you'd put these on just for him.

“Speak, sweetheart.” He breathed, parting your hair to kiss your neck. 

Rick was doing a good job of making it hard to remember what you were planning on saying in the first place. He kissed down your neck, his hands sliding down your torso to rest on your hips to guide you forward towards your bed. 

“Got you something.” He muttered into your neck before he pulled back to push you on the bed. 

He dipped his fingers into the front pocket of his jeans, and pulled out a folded napkin. He glanced up at you, his eyes almost looking hesitant. 

You swallowed hard and watched him unfold the napkin, his movements slow, until he knelt on the floor in front of you and showed you his gift. 

“Oh.” You couldn't think of what to say. Earrings, small orbs that were a deep red color. On either side of the orb sat two diamonds, much smaller than the rubies.

“You like ‘em?” He urged, looking up at you, eager, desperate for your approval. Like his life depended on you putting them on. 

“Of course I do.” You nodded, and took them from the napkin in his open hands. 

His lips bloomed into a smile as you put them on. His eyes followed each move you made. 

The second you put the last one on he was on you, his lips on yours, a hand on your throat giving a gentle squeeze that sent excitement fluttering in your stomach.

You groaned, tilting your head back to give him better access. Wordlessly begging him to squeeze harder. 

He didn't get the hint, only dipping his head down to kiss the bottom of your chin. 

“Rick.” You drawled, your head dizzy and light from his touches and kisses. 

“Hmm.”

“You know how,” you sucked in a sharp breath as he nipped the skin below your ear, immediately going to kiss the reddening spot in an apology. “The other night you- you were rough?”

He pulled back, his hand relaxing around your throat, his fingers unfolding to simply press against the side of your neck. 

There was a look of sympathy, regret maybe. He nodded, his eyes soft and locked on yours. “I shouldn't have, I'm sorry. You're just…” he sighed, the sound coming out with a shudder. “Was it too much?”

“No.” You immediately answered, shaking your head. “I liked it.” Your words had an obvious affect on him. The sympathy was gone, completely replaced with building excitement. 

“I want that again.” 

He closed his eyes. His fingers twitched against the side of your neck before slowly bending back into a firm grip around your throat. 

“Don't, don't hold back this time, please.” 

When his eyes opened you got that same shock of fear you felt the first time, but unlike the first time there was no uncertainty. 

You whimpered when you felt his hold on your neck loosen. “I can take it.”

He took his bottom lip between his teeth, his jaw flexing as he bit down. Putting on a good show, pretending he had to think about it. Pretending he was cautious. He knew what he would look like if he dove right in without hesitation. He'd look like the selfish, self indulgent man he truly was when it came to sex. 

He raised his eyes to yours, his lips splitting into a grin. You mirrored his expression, your heart hammering against your chest, grinning as he slid on top of you and onto the bed. 

“Tell me to stop an’ I will.” He reminded. 

“Not gonna happen.”

He chuckled, low and deep in his chest. His lips found their place back on your neck, and his hips between your thighs. 

You groaned the second you felt his dick through his jeans pressed up against you. The sensation was rough, almost painful the way he ground against your thin panties. 

The feeling of your nipples being pinched had you squeaking in surprise, your back arching. There'd been no warm up, just an immediate burning pinch.

Then a twist. 

“Oh, god!” You groaned deeply, your eyes clenching shut. The pain radiated much further than just your nipples, shooting down your breast tissue, almost all the way over your entire chest. 

“Sounds so good.” He muttered, planting his feverish lips against the cheeks of your scrunched up face. “Such pretty noises.” 

You put on a brave face, keeping your mouth tightly shut as he tested your limits, switching between pinching and twisting your sore buds. 

He was impressed. You whined and groaned, but you never told him to stop. He released them and you sucked in a breath, your back relaxing back into the mattress. 

“You have no fuckin’ clue,” Rick spoke, kissing down your chest. “How sexy you are. How sexy that was.” 

You wrapped your fingers in his curls as he kissed your sides, clenching his hair in your fists when he opened his mouth and gave a hard bite on your waist right below your ribs. 

“Fuck!” You gasped. Your legs instinctively bent at the knees, clenching around his torso under his armpits. 

“Too much?” He hummed, releasing you from his teeth. He rubbed a finger along the bite mark and you winced, but shook your head. 

Rick couldn't help but chuckle at the look on your poor pretty face. “Don't feel like you've got to impress me, sweetheart.” 

“No.” You shook your head again, quicker this time. “Not that.”

“Good.” He went back to working you over, planting kisses down to your thighs. 

Your body was beginning to relax at the gentle touches of his lips on you. But true to his nature, Rick ripped that feeling away, sending electricity through your heart and heat through your core when he sunk his teeth into the inside of your upper thigh. 

Right below your panties he bit, over and over, sometimes just a nip, then a rough, teeth-gritting bite on the other thigh. 

You were unbelievably wet. Your hole burned, desperate to have something inside it, anything.

His fingers grabbed your panties and tugged them down, and you got exactly what you'd prayed for. 

The middle finger, his longest, slipped into you and pulled out a moan from your lips. He watched your face as he curled it, each curl and drag making you come more and more undone. 

He'd be content to finger you for hours. Watching the glint of red on your ears when you'd turn your head, or the glimmer of gold under your collarbone when you'd arch your back. He almost came when he saw your fingers wrap around the golden pendant.

You were having the time of your life, squirming on your bed as he knelt between your knees and made you come. 

“Oh, fuck, Rick!” You gasped, bending your knees again, wanting to wrap your legs around something, a waist, a head, but they were empty and you just slammed your knees together when the cord in your belly snapped. 

“Shit.” Rick cursed, watching your face as you came. The faces you made, it made his chest tighten and the smallest, faintest, tiniest lump form in his throat. You were too beautiful. Too perfect, covered in his trophies, his trophy. All his work in the last year perfectly laid on your naked body. 

You moaned behind closed lips, your eyes finally opening as your orgasm died down.

Your stomach flipped at the sight of Rick sitting there, staring at you. His eyes flicked up to yours when he saw them open. His shoulders rose and fell heavily, his nostrils ever so slightly flared. 

“Rick?” You breathed his name, blinking away the fog in your eyes. 

The image of him spreading your knees with his hands, those beautiful big hands, and crawling up your body set your core on fire again. You felt more wetness leaking out of you as he pushed his hips back between yours, forcing a soft moan from your throat. 

He fumbled with his belt, leaving it through the loops, knowing you liked the clinking sound it made when he fucked you. 

Your heart leapt into your throat when you saw the first flash of his dick. It looked much darker in the dim lighting of your room and the sight of his thick pubes made your stomach flip again. It was so masculine, so primal, it drove you insane. 

“C'mere.” Rick huffed before kissing you again, tearing your gaze away from his dick. 

You hummed into his lips, wrapping your fingers back in his cold hair. You'd succeed in making his slicked back hair messy, and thick curls fell down his forehead and tickled yours. 

He smelt so good, his shampoo and his cologne. His breath as well, which led you to believe he'd brushed his teeth when he used your bathroom. With your toothbrush. 

Even though he was sliding the tip of his dick around your slippery pussy, the thought of him using your toothbrush made you blush. 

“Mmm, hah-” He grunted as he pushed into you, spewing out a string of curses as your walls squeezed him the way he'd squeezed your neck. 

You felt a bit of pride at his reaction, and bit back a smile when he pressed his forehead against your shoulder to steady himself.

The feeling of his heavy cock sitting unmoving inside you finally sets your mind into a blank state. You breathed through your lips, slow and deep, trying to control your racing heart. The anticipation was killing you. 

“Did you mean it?” He spoke, the sound of his low voice startling you. 

When you didn't immediately answer he rolled his hips, and you moaned. 

“When you said you can take it?” He continued, his hands moving from their place on your hips up your sides. 

“Yes.” You answered with an eager nod. 

He breathed out, and grinned, looking down at you with a sleazy and cocky expression. “Should've fucked you a long time ago.”

Before you could agree he pulled out an inch, and slowly pushed back in. You whimpered and tilted your hips upwards, already becoming greedy and impatient. 

He teased you like that for a while, barely pulling out, slowly pushing back in, and it soon had you a whiny mess.

“Harder.” You whined, your fingers curling repeatedly around a lock of his hair. 

“Yeah?” He hummed with a smile, pulling back out a little further, but still pushing back in just as slow. He pulled back out and caught you off guard by slamming back into you, making you see stars and birds. 

“You like that? Huh?” He drawled, pulling back out even further, fucking his dick into you with another brutal thrust. "This what you want?"

You didn't respond with words, only nodding and moaning. 

The quick and rough snatch of your chin in his fingers had you sobering up real quick. He forced you to look at him, his pupils blown, his open lips in a breathy smile. “Asked you a question.”

“Yes. I love it. I love it Rick.” You babbled, nodding faster. “Please don't stop.”

He dug his thumbnail into your chin, holding your face in place as he thrusted into you. His index finger slipped between your lips and forced your mouth open. Before you could react he was spitting on your tongue, and using his finger to slide down the back of it. 

You gagged, a short and easy gag that wasn't uncomfortable. You could feel his dick twitch inside you at the sight and sound of you gagging on his finger. 

He fucked you normally for a minute, his pace rough and deep, but still not fast enough for your liking. 

“Sit up.” He grunted. You don't know why he even told you to because he was already moving you for him, grabbing you by your hips and moving until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet planted on the floor and you in his lap. 

The new angle had his dick much deeper. If he was only a few millimeters longer it would've been unbearable, but the pain was sharp and you loved it. 

“So pretty. Pretty girl.” He cooed, squeezing the flesh of your hips as he rolled his hips up against you. 

The image of him still fully dressed and you completely naked on his lap brought you closer to orgasm. As much as you loved it he was getting hot, and he had to take his jacket off and throw it behind you. 

The white T-shirt that was a little too small was just as hot. 

You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt so you wouldn't fall backwards and moved on him, lazily raising your hips in a way that complimented his own movements. 

Each time you moved back down he'd move up, forcing himself as deep as possible, deep bolts of pleasure shooting through your core each time you sank back down. 

Oh, finally, finally.

He picked up the pace. 

He gripped your hips and started moving you on his own, bouncing you up and down on his length. 

“Oh, god.” You blurted, tightening your grip on the front of his shirt. His rough mound of pubes dragged against your clit each time he tugged you down against him, and you were close. 

“Gonna -”

He quickly cut you off. “Gonna cum for me?” He breathed, and one hand left your hip. He dropped you down on his dick and started using the strength in his thighs and core to fuck up into you. 

You didn't have time to wonder where his hands went before his left one was in your hair, and his right was around your throat. 

He squeezed, much harder than before. Your face immediately felt tight and hot, and you had to fully open your mouth to gasp down air. Thankfully he was only cutting off blood flow, and you could still breathe. 

Not that it mattered much, because he quickly took your breath away with a slap to your face. 

You came hard and with a sharp cry, your thighs squeezing his waist as your hips jerked in his lap.

“That's right.” Rick hissed, and wrapped your hair around his fist and yanked. 

You didn't think it was impossible to reach a second high in the same orgasm, but you did. Your head spun as your body trembled against him. You couldn't process much of what happened, your mind was too fuzzy, your body buzzing to the point of shivering, twitching, and he slapped you again. 

You cried out, your eyes snapping open to find his face. 

He looked so beautiful. Face red in the dim lighting, that sexy stubble, his eyes dark with dilation. He looked just as ruined as you, but he was holding it together far better. 

“S’it okay?” He slurred, his movements slowing as he took a moment to rub your red cheek.

You never in your entire fucking life thought you'd enjoy being slapped on the face. And certainly not by a man. But you didn't just enjoy it, you loved it, you loved the feeling of Rick hurting you and getting turned on by it. You loved his wide hand making your cheek burn. 

“Stings a little.” You admitted, your voice raw from your vocal orgasm. “But, I liked it.”

“It stings?” He grinned lazily, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. “Was being gentle.”

You groaned, jerking your hips forward and earning a low grunt from Rick. 

“Told you not to be gentle.” 

“You're right.” He leaned in and kissed you, deep and firm. He pulled back, but not before catching your bottom lip in his teeth and pulling you back with him. 

He rolled you over on your stomach and pushed back into you, taking a moment to kiss your shoulders and neck before getting back to screwing your brains out. 

You pushed your ass into him, eager to feel him as deep as you had when you were in his lap. It worked, the tip of his dick slipped past the curve of your walls and rubbed against the soft spot inside you. 

You should've pissed before sex, but it was too late for that now. You'd have to wait. Besides, the feeling was a guilty pleasure, something you'd feel embarrassed to admit, feeling him fuck into you when you needed to pee made each thrust feel ten times more intense. 

He wrapped your hair around his fist again, his movements extremely deliberate and precise, the same precision as braiding your hair. 

Rick used the grip on your hair to yank your head to the side. You let out a little yelp, and his other hand slid under you, finding your throat again. 

“How's it feel?” he lowered himself down to your ear. He held your head in place with your hair, his grip tightening and pulling every so often, bringing sharp tingles down your scalp and neck. 

“Having my hand around your throat.” He breathed. He kissed around the back of your neck, the tips of your shoulders, his hips slamming down against your upturned ass. 

“Feels so good.” You rasped, pushing yourself back into him to prove your point. You shoved your pillow to the side so your nose wasn't covered anymore, enjoying the feeling of air on the side of your hot face. 

“Is that right?” His teeth dug into the skin above your shoulder blades. "Love these hands?"

You couldn't answer. He'd tightened his grip around your throat and it wasn't just blood cut off from your brain anymore. 

“You know what I've done with these hands?” He groaned after you clenched down around him at his words. The feeling you got and the reaction you gave to his words was morally reprehensible. It was fucking disgusting. 

“Know how many?”

You should've felt ashamed that you came after that. But you didn't. Not at that moment, at least. Your walls squeezed around him and you tried to moan, but it was strangled out of you. 

It felt like seeing God, or something holy and ethereal. Your vision was flashes of white and black, flickering like strobe lights, your head felt like it was about to explode with pressure. Your eyes burned, but your pussy felt amazing. 

All you could do was grip onto the sheets beside your head and enjoy it, and pray you didn't pass out and miss the best post-orgasm glow of your life. 

Rick let out this strangled groan behind your head, his brutal bulldozing of your spasming cunt growing sloppy. He squeezed your throat harder as he came into you, fucking each drop back up inside you as he fell down from his high. He drew out every single wave of pleasure, even to the point of it becoming uncomfortable for him, his dick burning and tingling with overstimulation. 

His hand left your throat, and your head throbbed as the blood and oxygen rushed back up into it. You groaned, soft and pained, pressing your forehead into the mattress in an attempt to minimize the pain.

You couldn't really focus on it, thankfully, because the feeling of his dick dragging down and out of your trembling walls was too jarring. 

“Fuck.” You grunted, your waist moving to the side to get his dick away from where he had it sitting against your pussy. 

If you thought he was sweet after the first time, then he’s a bonafide angel this time. 

He turned you over and sat you up, brushing your damp hair away from your sweaty face. 

“Hey.” His palms smoothed down the sides of your head, fixing your wild hair. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.” You managed a very weak and crooked grin. 

He smiled in relief, and swiped his tongue under your nose, wiping away the small drop of blood that peeked out. 

After cleaning you up and helping you to the bathroom he slipped your favorite night dress over your head, not bothering with underwear. 

The post orgasm clarity was trying its damndest to make you feel like an awful piece of shit. Knowing what Rick had done to people who didn't deserve it. It was something you could never be okay with, but his lips kissing over every bite and bruise he'd given you did a good job taking your mind off it. 

“Beautiful.” He whispered against the bite marks on your neck and chest, planting another kiss on the next mark. “Look at you.” 

You knew you probably looked like you'd just crawled out of a car wreck. Your hair was still messy even though he'd tried to fix it, and your neck was a whole new problem. Bruises from his teeth and hands. Blood blisters from where he'd bitten down way too hard in some spots. Even though no vessels had burst in your eyes they were still red, and that wouldn't go away overnight. There were more turtlenecks in your future.

It was like art to Rick. You looked like art. He kissed your rings. His hands holding yours felt like they belonged to a completely different person, so gentle and light, as if you'd suddenly turned into glass and the slightest pressure would break you. 

He kissed your throat, the bottom of your chin, and your swollen lips. There was the faintest twinge of purple on your bottom lip, a line fitting the exact measurement of his top left incisor. 

“First time I've ever been fucked like that.” 

Rick chuckled, raising his head from your lips to look down at your blissed out face. 

“First time I've fucked like that.” He kissed your cheek before finally laying down beside you. 

It surprised you, even though it shouldn't have. You were the first person he'd fucked since Lori, and she seemed like the type to blanch over simple restraints like fuzzy handcuffs, no disrespect intended. 

“Is that what you think about?” You whispered, feeling your already burning cheeks get hotter. “When you're… Solo…” 

He let out a gruff chuckle. “Yeah.” He laid out his arm for you to move into him, and you did. You pressed against his side and rested your head on his chest, inhaling the scent of his deep sweat and the remnants of his cologne. 

“Is that all?” You asked, trying to sound confident. “Or, was there more?”

“More I wanted to try?” He humored you. You knew he was exhausted and just wanted to sleep, but the urge to know more was gnawing at you. When you nodded, he tilted his head to look up at the ceiling, which was now black from the lights being turned off. 

“Yeah. There's more.” He finally answered. 

You forced yourself to stop asking questions. You nodded against his chest and pressed yourself tighter against his side, nuzzling your head in an attempt to get more comfortable. 

“Can talk about it later, if you want.”

You smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @adribarbie @my1fx @jinx-nanami

[witchofthesouls]

Bots going throught strong food confusion probably hear the kids strong opinions daily considering three of them different countries and stuff

Jack: I mean we can eat anything but the big question is Should you thought?

Miko: Sounds like someone with food allergies would say

Jack: You maybe can eat raw fish without consequences but i rathet not risk salmonella or listeriosis

Raf: *probably has abuelita cooking lots of good food*Food is food

Funnily enough, Jack fusses over that because of fast-food experience and horror stories by restaurants and hospitals. Plus, he picked up on some of June's wellness habits, especially since Jack tended to get sick all the time as a young child. He warned Miko that botulism cases in the US usually come from improperly stored home canned food or the gas station nacho cheese sauce.

Miko came from Japan, so she had several culture shocks to jump, especially with food. American dining portions are huge since they're a very big (pun intended) on leftovers. Taking food home to eat later is deeply ingrained. It's common for Americans to eat out, but Japan is the opposite. Another thing that annoyed her was the advertising, but now she jokes that the pictures are tastier than the true product. And the amount of meat! It astounded her how much fucking red meat Americans like to eat. She deeply misses having a konbini because the American equivalent isn't the same, especially since the safety standards are different.

Raf can only be trusted with boiling water and ready meals since the girls and women in the Esquivel family shoo him out. He's familiar with ground pits since barbacoa is on the menu with family gatherings. Raf has excellent swiping skills as his siblings and cousins have the strength to shove him. He teams up with his sister as she does distractions, and he snatches away the good stuff.

So yeah, along with the 'Can you eat that?' game, the Autobots play '20 Questions' on preparation, ingredient acquisition, and cooking.

Supermarkets and farms are a Twilight Zone to them. There's food with different names to differentiate sizes, parts, and colors. (Arcee had thought the kids were messing her with broccoli and cauliflower.) Earth's varied languages add more to the confusion. Humans can eat rocks, poisons, and mold. There are perishable and non-perishable foods. Food that eats other food. Food that improves soil composition. Food that plays niche ecological roles. Food that's only about status. And choices, so many choices. A ridiculous number of choices in an American supermarket. Oh, and humans have a passionate love affair with cabbages and nightshade. Or with just plants in general.

Arcee started it as a joke, but now all the Autobots ask the resident humans if they did their "cabbage runs" and "picked up their posions" (aka grocery shopping with a play on the English idiom: "pick your poison." Yes, they have been told the meaning. No, they don't care because it makes so much more sense to them, especially with the nightshade and spices consumption).