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livelaughlovesubs · 2 months ago

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~ 09.10 - Michael ~

Dom!reader x sub!michael - reader is gender neutral

Warning: thigh riding, dubcon (becomes consensual), dacryphilia, mind break, sub space, virgin Michael, corruption kink, slight hierophilia, public sex..?, a bit exhibitionist, teasing, kissing, making out, mentioned kidnapping, Michael cries a lot just saying, this is a little sad in the middle

~ Wordcount: 6.2k ~

Nini!rant: requested by @rae-pss - inspired by his evolution date, I SPEND TOO LONG ON THE PREMISE

Kinktober list 2024

It’s been a few days now that you’ve been brought to heaven by Raphael. He did promise you he’ll kidnap you one day, what you didn’t expect was for that ‘someday’ to happen this soon. As to how that happened? Well, the sky was clear that day, so much that he could see your silhouette from the edge of heaven. Leading to him darting down like a hawk who found its prey, and holding you between his arms before flying off again.

You didn’t even have time to yell or reach out to your companions, who were dumbfounded to the point of being frozen in place. It must have looked pretty stupid after all. Once you were brought to heaven, Raphael looked at you expectantly, as if waiting for a treat. “I’m not going to call you 'good boy', Rara, you kidnapped me.” You brushed him off, then sighed and asked, “I can’t go back down, huh?” He nodded his head. “As expected, fine, then show me around here.” This was a reaction he didn’t expect, why did you sound so done with everything—

The next few hours were spent with the little angel showing you around all excited, though he tried his hardest to not wag his tail. You followed closely, looking around this unfamiliar place. There weren’t any kind of fun things or shops in heaven, only houses for residents. It looked pretty depressing, especially because everything was rid of colors and purely white. When he asked if heaven ain’t better than hell or earth, you didn’t have the heart to answer honestly.

Soon you reached the last destination, his own place, where he would spend his nights. That’s when you found out all the seraphim’s sleep together, on the floor, with a thin cushion only. Compared to the devils, angels must have been real minimalists. To Raphael's dismay, Gabriel and Michael were also inside the building. You met Gabriel in the prayer room, where you almost got blinded by his halo. When your kidnapper saw him, he quickly tried to rush you out of the room, but Gabriel still noticed your presence.

“You brought Solomon’s descendant here? Why?” He shot you a glare, ready to put his scythe to use. You stared back all disgusted. “Don’t you dare, Gabriel. They belong to me.” He scoffed, and stood between you and the once-praying angel, to hide your form from his piercing gaze. The two of them were fighting like cats and dogs, basically not paying any attention to you anymore.

Which is why you took that opportunity to sneak away, tender steps as you backed out of the room. You aimlessly walked around their residence, exploring this new world, starting to pity their mundane lives. If you were to spend centuries in this boring place, where everything was white and monotone, you'd become a feral beast as well and probably lose your mind.

Like a miracle, you found something colorful, amid this white paradise. Carefully you stepped out of the building, into what seemed to be the garden. With a gentle swipe of your hand, you opened and closed the door, looking around to get familiar with your surroundings. There were flowers, everywhere, so many that it looked like straight out of a painting. It was simply beautiful. By the looks of it, this could be the garden of Eve that’s so infamous on earth, for this was a scenery so magnificent you didn’t anticipate it.

Heck, it looked a little out of place even, for so many colors to exist on this plain canvas that’s called heaven, as if god dropped a bucket of paint over this secret place. Slowly, you walked along the path to the huge apple tree in the middle. In front of it was a white pavilion, underneath it was a table with six chairs, but two of them had been stacked and pushed to the side.

“Beautiful…” you whispered breathlessly, eyes sparkling with admiration. There were so many kinds of flowers you’d expect the smell to be intense and intoxicating, but it wasn’t. This defied all logic, though you were kind of getting used to it by now. Only if you squeezed your eyes shut and focused solely on the smell, could you feel a sweet scent reach your nose, a scent you couldn’t quite describe. You tried to identify the smell and concentrated really hard, but to your surprise, you noticed a hint of sadness in the undertone of the scent.

Startled, you looked around, wondering if you were going crazy. Then you heard water flowing, no, to be more specific, someone watering the flowers. With even quieter steps, you approached the source of the noise and caught a glimpse of a figure with black hair. It must be Michael, you thought, and wanted to turn around and quickly leave before he tries to kill you, if not for him who mumbled, “Don’t run.” You froze in place, he didn’t even look up from the flowers, still tending to them.

You waited until he was done, nervously sweating as you clenched your hands. He wouldn’t kill you here, right? “Are you going to kill me?” Look at you, so bold, taking the initiative like this. Michael frowned, “Not here, I don’t want your filthy blood getting on my flowers.” So you were correct, Michael was the one who took care of those plants. “Ah.., ermm, understandable, those flowers are very pretty.”

The angel still had that distinct scorn on his face and a breath of arrogance, but he was beautiful nonetheless. His black hair stood out among all the colors, and the feathers of his wing that fluttered softly in the wind, as well as his right cheek which still hasn’t stopped crying. “Obviously they'd be pretty, I’m personally tending to them. Now get out, you are lucky I’m busy.” He walked past you, shoving you to the side and almost making you fall into the flowerbed, before filling up the watering can.

You stared at him emptily, then walked to the pavilion and sat down on one of the chairs, leaning back and watching him. “What do you think you are doing?” Michael then groaned, shooting you a furious look. “I’m looking at the flowers," You answered defiantly. “I thought I told you to get out—”

“Y/n!” Raphael’s voice rang through the garden, and he ran, almost tripping over Michael who was hovering near the entrance. “Urgh- don’t stand in my way, Michael.” When the black-haired angel heard that, he flared up, and his wing also flapped around very quickly, “Bloody hell Raphael, I was here first.” Quickly you stumbled across the yard and stopped the fight from escalating, grabbing the arm of the red angel, “Don’t fight, don’t fight, I’m here Rara. So, where did you want to take me?”

Raphael gave the other angel a final glare, before turning to you, "I haven't shown you your bedroom yet, come." Afterward, he walked away without looking back, holding your hand in his. Your gaze lingered on Michael for a while, longer than intended, before eventually turning around and following the much too enthusiastic boy.

That was your first day in heaven, and the days that followed weren’t all that different. It has become your daily routine to come to the garden, every single day. You were simply infatuated by the exotic flowers, and frankly, because you were curious about Michael. Why was he so dead on taking care of these flowers? Did he like pretty things, or was this simply his hobby? Every day, without fail, you’d bring some snacks and drinks with you and enjoy them under the pretty pavilion. Sometimes, more often than not, you’d be accompanied by Raphael as well.

Michael didn’t like that one bit, but since this garden belonged to all three seraphim’s, he couldn’t forbid Raphael from entering. Whenever you two spend time chatting and eating, he’d try to ignore you. Yet he couldn’t help but steal the occasional glances at the two of you being all lovely dovely. If you were to meet his face during these moments, he'd have an expression of pure disgust on his face, though he would never look away. Sometimes he also stares with an expression that wasn't disgust, it was something you couldn't put your finger on.

Particularly so when you’d pat and stroke Raphael on the head, hug him goodbye, or have him lay his head on your lap while you laugh all carefree. There was something about it, that seemed way too familiar, so intimate that it made him reminisce.

Back to the present, this time you came to the garden alone, which was rare, but not unusual. Michael hovered on the ground, the watering can placed next to him, he found it to be insane how used he’s gotten to your presence. Normally, he'd immediately luge for you and try to murder you, but now he's tolerating you for the sake of Raphael. You walked up to the angel, squatting, looking at the same batch of flowers he was looking at. He frowned at you for a split second, before turning his gaze back to the flowers.

“They are pretty, what’s their name?” You eventually asked, after admiring them for a good second. The flower had a pure white color, it hung from the thin stem, looking like multiple little bells. Michael stayed quiet for a moment, a gentle breeze running through his silky long hair, making them fly up a little. His soft feathers moved gently, proof of how soft they must be, you felt an impulse to reach out and touch them. He pondered over if he wanted to talk to the likes of you, then answered, “Lily of the valley.”

After hearing his answer, your eyes widened, you didn’t expect him to actually reply to you, and so calmly as well, it almost made you flustered. Wanting to continue the conversation, you quickly chirped, “Ah- it’s a pretty name.. erm, do these flowers have a meaning?” His head hung low when you voiced that question, the scent of sadness tickled your nose again.

Since you’ve spend so much time in the garden, you’ve come to understand it was the scent of Michael, who cried all the time. He debated with himself whether or not he should tell you, it was a little too intimate to tell strangers after all, yet there was something about you that made him feel weirdly at ease, and he whispered almost inaudibly, “They remind me of someone.” You didn’t need to ask twice to understand who he meant, instead, you chuckled. The boy grabbed your collar with an angry expression, and snapped, “What are you laughing at?”

You didn’t resist and explained, “Nothing, I’m not making fun of you. It was a bittersweet laugh.” Michael hesitated, the hand clutching your collar trembled slightly. “What do you mean.” He demanded, not even really asking. “It’s just… there’s someone I know who also plants flowers to remember his loved ones.” His grip loosened, and he pulled his hand back, you could swear you noticed his tears flow a little faster. “I think I know the name of the flower as well, it was— gardenia.”

He was a smart man, even if you beat around the bush he was fully aware of the person you meant. Seeing as you got him on your hook, it was time to spill the tea, just for the drama effect. You weren't sure where you were going with this, though you've always wanted to help these forsaken brothers, even if just a little, “but you know, he was a clumsy man. Even though he was the one who told me the name of the flower, he'd mistakenly call the flower ‘Michael’. What a silly man.”

Suddenly Michael darted towards you, tripping you over. You tried your best to not damage any of the plants around you, hands kept to your chest as the male got on top of you, pinning your head between his arms. Your head luckily didn't hit the stone floor, though his weight was a little uncomfortable. That's when you heard him scream, “Stop… acting like him..!”

“Hu-huh..?” The confusion was undeniable in your tone, and you tried to look at the man who was hovering over you. His hair blocked your sight, tickled your skin, and then wet droplets splashed onto your face. Were these... tears? Ah, probably from his- hold up, he was crying with both eyes. You gawked, surprised by his vulnerable emotional state. Guess angels were only neglected children after all. Gently, you brushed his hair to the side, seeing his eyes become watery and spilling hot tears.

Contrary to what you expected, he didn't deny your touch but instead leaned into it. His voice was quivering ever so little as he stated, “You knew from the start, didn’t you? So why.. why did you.. you and Raphael, you two..” his sobbing increased, blurring his sight with his tears. In the end, he stopped pinning you to the ground and straddled your lap.

With lingering doubts, you sat up, watching him wipe his tears with his now equally wet sleeves. You didn't know what came over you when you whispered subconsciously, “Beautiful.” It was what you thought at that moment, your most honest feelings. He stopped for a moment to look at you, then smiled bitterly, muttering, “You two are similar even in that regard..." Suddenly he hugged you, wrapping his arms around your neck and holding onto your back, clenching your clothes tightly.

Without missing a beat, he nuzzled into your neck, sobbing into your shoulder, all quietly, only the occasional hiccup could be heard slipping from his puffy lips. You knew all he needed was a shoulder to cry on, so you patted the back of his head, stroking through his soft locks, using your other hand to grab his waist. “It’s alright. And let me tell you something, I know Lucifer loves you just as dearly as you do." To your surprise he rubbed his wet cheek against yours, then turned to look at you, “…I guess you weren’t doing it on purpose?”

He had a meek smile on his face, an almost embarrassed expression. The tears didn’t stop flowing, though it seemed he calmed down a little. “I don’t know what you mean?” You retracted your hand from the back of his head and wiped his tears away. The angel stared at your fingers for a moment, then leaned even closer to you, uttering, “Lucifer Hyeong would have kissed them away.” For the next few seconds, you froze.

Why did he tell you that...? Was he hinting at you to do the same? Does that mean he thought you were similar to Lucifer?

“May I ask why you think so?” The question was a little out of pocket, but he knew what you tried to ask him. “You know what I... miss about Hyeong?" He looked down, clenching his teeth, muscles tensing before relaxing them again to finish his sentence, "Everything, I-I miss his laughter, his hugs, his soft strokes- And guess what you've been doing in front of me?” You went quiet at the last part, this time you knew exactly what he meant without further explanation.

Though you truly weren't doing it to spite him or with other ulterior motives, you were simply being yourself. The look you had was indescribable, it wasn’t quite pity, but more a cocktail of many emotions. “You…” he began once again, stopping to take a deep, shaky breath, to calm his erratic heart and stop the sobbing, before continuing, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I didn't mean to appear identical to-” you didn’t get the chance to end your speech when he interrupted you, “don’t you dare speak with my brother’s tone, while looking and acting like him.” At this point, you didn’t even know what to do, how could it be that everything you did reminded him of that person? Furthermore, you feared he was starting to have a twisted and possibly delusional image of you, to make you his substitute for Lucifer. You were sick of playing house after all that ordeal with the devils— especially Sitri.

All in all, no matter how similar their image of you and the person they meet in their dream is, you could never become the same. You were your own person, and not whatever others wanted you to be. The only thing you could think of doing was to somehow comfort him, this beautiful man who didn’t understand his own feelings, in a way his dearest older brother would never. So you hugged him, pulling him into a tight embrace, something he desperately wanted and needed.

The results were him crying even more frantically, weeping like a baby bird while he cried out, “I missed you so much, brother.” You didn't like his choice of words. After a while, you said silently, like a soft exhale of air that grazed his ears, “I’m not Lucifer.”

His grip on you tightened, but nothing else happened until you commented, "And I'm not your brother or Hyeong." The angel whined out, “Stop..” yet you didn’t, you followed your statement up with, “Not to mention I doubt Lucifer will ever come back to heaven.” Micheal looked like he was devastated, unable to accept the truth, he was basically begging you now as he yelled, “S-stop! I demand you to stop talking—” You shifted in your seat, now grabbing his wrists with one hand, “Michael, I think the reason he left is because it’s time for you to move on.”

He stayed completely still, arms now placed above his head, cheeks, and nose completely red while he wore this lost look in his eyes. “I’ll say it again, I’m not Lucifer. No matter how I act, I won’t be able to give you the same solace as he does.” Slowly, you guided his wrist to your lips, and bit down, leaving behind a red mark and a flustered Michael. He whimpered at the pain, taking his sweet time to snap back to reality as if he wanted to stay in his own fantasy world. “I can at most comfort you in other ways.” You then added, holding him closer with your free hand.

The boy didn’t struggle anymore, his pupils shook slightly, cheeks rosy as he hid it behind his wing. His face has been decorated with those pretty, shiny water droplets, some even dried off already. “W-what..?” Before he could prepare himself for what you had in store for him, you guided his body to move back and forth on your lap. He almost shrieked at the sudden movement, and then he stared at you with a baffled look.

If he had to describe it, it felt like he was riding a horse, but why were you doing this? Rubbing his metallic chastity belt against your skin, wasn't it uncomfortable? “Hold on to me.” You then said, and he became even more confused. Nonetheless, he obliged all obediently, grabbing your shoulders but taking care to not use too much strength.

This shift in behavior wasn’t because of you, he was still seeing you as that person, as him. With gritted teeth, you pulled down the zipper to his pants, and his cheeks flushed immediately. “Wait! What do you think you are doing?!!” He screamed, obviously not prepared for that bold move of yours. The boy was being so loud your eardrums almost exploded.

Judging by his reaction, you were achieving the effect you wanted, breaking down his idolized version of you, “I’m guessing Lucifer never taught you sex education~?” You joked and stared at his chastity belt. It’s the second one you’ve seen, the first one was Raphael’s. This one looked a little different in shape and color, it was golden, like most of the accessories of Michael. Despite it being a few weeks already, you still remembered clearly how you unlocked that device, which is why it didn’t take long until you freed the poor member of the male from its cage.

Michael stared down at you, unmoving, eyes widened while being as red as a tomato. When he heard the click of the lock, he felt his heart leap for a second. “No- no way.. you opened this? So easily?” He blushed and seemed slightly disgusted by the looks of his erection, which was leaking glowing precum down his shaft. This is also his first time seeing his dick, you almost forgot about the fact, that angels are basically all virgins. Gosh, how cute~

With one pull, you threw his chastity belt to the side, staring at his half-erect dick. “Yep. And- oh my? You are way bigger than your brother?” To be honest, you weren’t even sure if you were impressed or terrified. Michael hid his face with the back of his palm, thighs instinctively trying to squeeze close when a gust of wind blew against his now fully hard cock, though of course there weren't any results, considering he was straddling your thighs.

“No, d-don’t look..! No one should... expect god…” more tears swelled up in his eyes, he was also embarrassed at doing it outside, here so many people could catch you two. It would be blasphemy if anyone saw him in this state, he'd probably rip off his own wings and join his brother in hell if that happened! Knowing that you almost felt bad for him, for all these sexually frustrated and very much depraved creatures.

“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll just help you jack one off. You’ll feel much better afterward.” With that being said, you got to work. Fingers sinking into his smooth flesh, moving him around on your thigh, making him rub the underside of his most intimate parts against your clothes legs. It felt so rough against his perfect and soft skin, and on top of all of it, it felt so weird and so hot. He mewled, unable to fathom all these sensations, eyes searching for some guidance from you. Though you deliberately ignored him, gliding him across your thigh, trying to stimulate the male.

He began trashing around, resisting, pushing you away while crying out, "No! H-hyeong would never do something sinful like this..!! You stop these.. unholy and inappropriate acts!" You only laughed in response, asking teasingly, "But tell me, Michael, doesn't this feel good?" Completely treating his request like some passing breeze, feeling grateful that he was still capable of making his own judgment.

"I- no, I'm not answering you?! Are you trying to slander my brother?" He sounded just a tiny bit angry with you, trying hard to ignore the building arousal in his lower abdomen. "No, I never claimed to be him. Do you understand what I'm getting at, Michael?" His mouth hung open, as if he wanted to say something, yet not a single word escaped his throat. On the other hand, a series of moans and choked-out whimpers reached your ears. "Nghh... ahHh- I, s-still, sto- hnNghhh!"

Not good, he was being swept up by those hellish sentiments, by the temptations of the flesh. Why did it have to feel so hot, and be so brain-numbing? Poor birdy could barely think straight after all that edging on your part. You were way too perverted and too much of a tease to be his kind and gentle Hyeong!

"Y-y/n...! Please, I-I don't want this... it's scary, stop..!" At last, he resulted to pleading, unable to deal with the weight of his emotions clashing and fighting internally. It was the truth that he sought comfort by your hands and wanted you to fill the hole in his heart, but then you went ahead and turned the table at him. He didn't want to be touched by someone who wasn't god... and Lucifer. He also didn't want his first sexual encounter to be with you, or if it had to be done, out in the open in a place like this, where he'll defile all these pure and pretty flowers.

"Don't touch me..!" Even though he was so deadbeat on his mindset, he didn't try to push you away, was it out of consideration for the flowers or because he didn't dare hurt you after seeing Lucifer in you? No, hardly so, you could see right through his facade. He was probably thinking about how awful this situation was, but you knew he was lying to himself.

To prove your point, you stopped, leaning back and using your arms to support yourself off the ground, you apologized almost half-heartedly, "Alright, sorry then, I won't touch you. So, you do as you see fit. Climb off if that's what you truly want." Once again you surprised the angel with your actions, he didn't think you'd be so willing.

Only when you stopped pleasuring him he noticed that he actually missed the bubbly and warm feeling of your touch or that his erection was throbbing almost painfully so. He glanced down in disbelief, humiliation filling his senses. If he had to be blunt he had absolutely no idea how to react to this, so he did the only thing he could think of, doing whatever you did. Mind you his brain was already turned into mush due to all the tension from before.

Skeptically, he rolled his hips along your thighs, squeezing his lips shut in a poor attempt to stiffen his moans. At this rate, he was going to overstimulate himself since he didn't know what he was doing. Pride thrown out of the window while he bit back his shame, desperately grinding against you with that flushed look on his face. Small, muffled whines still seeped through his almost, almost water-tight defense. "Don't you dare... say anything... mhm!!"

He knew how hypocritical he was being, doing exactly what he apparently ‘hated’, that's why he didn't want to hear any mean comments from You. But his body moved on its own, he couldn't stop chasing after his own bliss. Why did it have to feel so good anyway? To drag his cock along your thigh, grinding his pre into your clothes... You watched the show unfold with attentive eyes, smirking as if you were saying, "Told ya". His grip on your shoulders got tighter, almost painful to bear.

Then he laid his forehead against the crook of your neck, body shivering tremendously while he groaned, "I-I... bloody hell... you did this to me." That angelic voice of his grazed your skin, hot and laced with need. "I don't know why I'm.. hngg, reacting l-like this..." He continued, egging you on, not getting to the point. "So, what are you getting at?" Again, you were aware of what he wanted from you, but you wanted to hear it from him personally.

“What I mean is- you... you take over!” Suddenly he leaned back to stare right into your eyes, he was still crying from both eyes. This time you were sure it wasn't due to his self-pity and sadness. You reached out for his cheek, cupping his face. His skin was hot, so much so that your hand felt ice cold against him. He leaned into your touch, lips squeezed into a pout, brows furrowed as he held his gaze low. "I thought you didn't like it?" You cooed, rubbing his tears away with your thumb.

Michael stayed quiet, he couldn't argue with that, he was the one that desperately pushed your touch away. That's why he just slumped back against you, mumbling, "P-please... I don't like— this heat either... make it go away..." Just to mess with him some more, you hummed, tilting your head to the side, "Hmm, I don't know, can't you do it yourself?" Now the angel was gritting his teeth, you wondered if you went too far. Much to your surprise, he pulled you into a deep, clumsy kiss.

The salty taste of his tears grazed your lips, his tongue messily stumbled into your mouth and he slurped and swindled it around aimlessly. You stayed still for a second, partly due to you getting startled, as well as you being in awe about how bad he was at kissing. Perhaps it was his first kiss, how cute, he's willingly gifting it to you. Since he has given you something so valuable, you had to show him a good time now, ain't that right?

Slowly, to not scare him, you moved your tongue as well, meeting his eager kiss with a smile on your lips. Closing your eyes to fully immerse yourself, only after seeing the embarrassed look on his blushy features. While he was distracted, you placed your graceful fingers around his slim waist again, giving him little instruction on what to do. Then, once he got into a rhythm, you moved your leg to meet his thrusts.

His heat and wetness already seeped through your pants, soaking your skin with his sticky substances. Yet you didn't bother, focusing solely on him and his pleasure. After a few sucks on your side, against his willing body, he started moaning into the kiss. Long, drawn-out moans that ended with a high-pitched whine for more, "ahhnnngh.. mhmm-uhm!!"

His hips suddenly jerked forwards, his poor cock was leaking and twitching helplessly, wagging around like some kind of tail. The neglect was impossible to overlook. May it be for his red, swollen tip that was decorated with glistening pearls of pre, or his bulging veins that looked like they were about to pop, it didn't matter. All he knew was he wanted more of this ecstatic, hypnotizing feeling that only you could provide.

Gradually, his movements became faster and more sloppy, your grip on him was so tight that his skin bruised. He choked, gagging on your tongue, throwing his head back to break the kiss. This was too much, too intense..! That poor birdy needs a break, or his brain will melt! Despite that, you grabbed him by his wing and forced him to stay still, lips crashing against his again. The feeling of your hand on his wing only intensified his pleasure, making him more erratic as electricity coursed through him.

You weren't done nor satisfied yet, hence you shoved your tongue down his throat again. "Mffhhmm!! ♡♡~! Y/n- I- nghhH..!!" This sensation, of something tingling inside him, threatened to burst at any rate. How was he supposed to hold himself back? All resistance fell on deaf ears and crumbled, and he felt himself being brought over the edge of bliss and sanity. For a moment that was supposed to be forbidden for him, or downright sinful, he felt strangely warm inside.

He hadn't felt this fuzzy and at ease for a long time, and so, he did what his instincts told him, he embraced the feeling. Tears poured from his eyes like little waterfalls, his face ruined to the point of being unrecognizable, and his wing flapping around in a pathetic attempt to balance out the pleasure. He grabbed a fistful of your clothes, almost digging holes into them as he relentlessly rode your thigh. He felt weak, so powerless like never.

His knees have been shaking for quite some time now. If it wasn't for your hands on his hips, he would have slumped forward and fallen into your embrace, that was how weak he was. More sweet whispers of pleasure slipped from his swollen lips, sending a tingle down your spine. "Hmmm... m' su-sumthin's cummin'..!♥︎♡!!" Michael tried to warn you, head so empty he couldn't form proper sentences. Not to mention you were still making out with him, rendering it almost impossible for him to speak coherently.

His dick twitched around a few times again, the tip was rather rubbing against your belly than your thighs, leaving behind strings of pre in its wake. Finally, after an eternity of tension and promised pleasures, he felt himself reaching his limit. The feeling was nothing he had ever experienced before, he couldn't even try to put it into words that was how mind-blowing it was. With one last meek try to warn you, which ended up sounding more like a high-pitched shriek of bliss and pure, primal ecstasy, he came all over the two of you.

“MhNMHHH~ aaAhHHnNNGGh♡♡♥︎♡♥︎～!!” Tridal waves of pleasure surged through his veins, making him shudder due to the intensity. His toes curled, wing flapping uncontrollably as thick ropes of white cum spurt out of his way too-overstimulated dick. It splattered across your clothes, and his as well. Judging by the amount of glowing fluids he shot out, he must have been pent up. Once again, you took the first orgasm ever of an angel, and it felt weirdly fun.

All this pleasure was too much for an inexperienced virgin angel like him~ his mind basically blanked out during his ejaculation, causing him to whimper and groan like some animal in heat, "Ah- uhm.? Nghh, uh-hnggh ♥︎♡♡!" He never knew there was pleasure like this, this amazing and tingly. It was just like the day he lost his eye.

You weren't even sure what he was trying to say, maybe nothing, maybe insults, whatever it was you didn't really care. Instead, you were fascinated by how different yet similar his reaction was to Raphael's. So it was true that angels were as bland as their buildings, with no real knowledge of what the pleasures of the flesh meant. You smiled, looking at his wrecked face. Still as red as ever, with dried-out tears stuck to his skin, and drool hanging out of his mouth, he has never looked more beautiful.

His wing has also calmed down, it was almost limping next to his head. Eyes still a little unfocused as he slowly regained his clarity, moving his hand to his face to rub his puffy eyes. That silky, untangled hair was a little messy more, and his clothes wrinkled. "That was a little too much stimulation for your first, huh?" You joked, and he didn't have the strength to give you a sassy answer, but he glared at you nonetheless. It was more of an I'm-too-tired-for-this glare than anything else though.

You didn't move from your spot, not wanting to rush him, giving him enough time to collect himself until he deemed himself ready to stand up from your lap. In the meantime, you noticed that the sad scent that radiated from him has dissipated, at least for now. Somehow, you felt really proud of yourself for that, smiling under your breath as you placed a kiss on his forehead.

Michael squeezed his eyes with a pout but didn't resist. His argument or defense for himself was that he was too worn out and tired, for now, and that he had enough opportunities to kill you in the future. It was nothing else but excuses, considering angels are just delusional beings at their core. As soon as he stood up on his wobbly legs, you wanted to ask how he was doing, that's when Raphael emerged from behind the doorframe.

His head peeked into the garden as he smirked darkly, mischievously even. "Pff, you look like a horny beast, Michael. Was it fun, screaming so loud I could hear your disgraceful moaning from miles away?" You stared at the blond angel with a skeptical look, he was acting as if he didn't act just the same. Then, he turned to you and said, "Anyway, y/n, you, come with me. I have something to show you." Now he stood in the doorframe with his entire figure, leaned against it.

You stood up from where you were previously sitting, and answered all carefree as you walked past him, "Okay ~ lemme get changed first." Raphael made way for you when you walked by and nodded in acknowledgment. Once you were gone, he made eye contact with his dear brother and had a slight scorn on his face. Michael frowned back at him, brushing off the dust from his clothes, even though there were bigger problems about his appearance than that. Like his disheveled hair, or the traces of shining cum on his shirt.

“What, don't like the fact they aren't only yours?” After a quick glaring contest, Michael spoke up, a sneer present in his voice. He got closer to Raphael, now standing right in front of him, crossing his arms around his chest. Though it seemed he had recovered very quickly, his legs and knees were still a little uneasy. "...I can't say I'm pleased with it, but they are free to do as they wish." The Blondie said, averting his gaze for a split second.

“How unusual of you, sharing was never your strong point.” The black-haired seraphim commented. A snarky laugh erupted from the red angel, and he scoffed, "You are one to talk." Afterward, he turned around, waving his hand as if to say goodbye, "It's a shame that I'm not the only angel who has experienced god's given pleasure now, but oh well, I'm still their first, remember it well." With that, Raphael disappeared into the building, leaving Michael standing at the entrance to the garden, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth.

Tags: @shianarou @ghostiegirl56 @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @aghrentroplayer @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze

Nini!rant 2.0:

I found many different translations for the meaning of the mentioned flowers, but these are the ones that I liked best.

Lily of the valley: purity, happiness, nostalgia, sadness, pain, death

According to the bible, lily of the valley is most infamously mentioned in the Song of Solomon (2:11). It’s also sometimes used as a metaphor or comparison to Jesus Christ, due to its sweet scent and white colour (Ephesians 5:2). White, which is knows to be a sin-free colour, used to describe a person without sin -> Michael still sees luci as a person without sin

There’s also a saying that lilies are the tallest of flowers, but hangs its head down, symbolising humbleness (Philippians 2:6~8). Also it’s supposed to have a lot of medical qualities, so it fits lucifer, who’s a healer.

Gardenia: purity, harmony, sweetness, joy, secret love

Here, it’s also qualities and things lucifer wishes for Michael. Like harmony, joy. Then, how he sees him and thinks about him. I thought it’d be cute haha

I choose them very carefully, there was quite a lot of thought behind them, that’s why it got its own special mention here :]

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harmonysanreads · 8 months ago

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Hello !!! I hope you’re doing fine and enjoyed last patch quest! I really really love your writing, and especially like the way you write Ratio,,,,, that yandere Drabble you posted a while ago with Ratio and Aventurine sharing reader has been haunting me in the best ways <33

Since your request are open, could I ask for a one-shot of yandere Ratio and Aventurine? If it’s fine I’ll ask for reader to be shy/introverted but otherwise I’ll leave it up to your inspiration! Maybe about life at home, or visit in Penacony? Maybe they’re tormenting Reader through strip-poker? Maybe Ratio was inspired by the shrinking device and now they’re having fun with their pocket-sized darling? Anything you fancy I’m not difficult, I only ask you have fun!! <3

(I assumed your no-sequel rule only applied to one-shot, I deeply apologise if I was wrong fjekjdksjd)

Inure

yandere!aventurine x reader x yandere!dr ratio

cw(s) : yandere, forced proximity, slight dehumanization (but everything is sauteed in humor so bon appetit ✨)

wc : 1k

hi nonnie!! thank you so much for your sweet words<3 tbh every idea you presented was very enticing and i'll definitely keep them in consideration for later. for now though, i really wanted to write something soft for these two, i hope you don't mind :>

Inconveniences come in many forms.

Some more candid than most, while others lurk in the shadows of carelessness like hyenas ; ready to pounce on the unsuspecting prey at the opportune time. Trouble and tribulation eclipse the course of human life, masquerading as two sides of the same coin. What they are, in truth, a pair of mischievous twins who are always watching, evaluating and trapping their victims in elation-filled jumpscares. It is also true that woes differ based on the individual, some even see fit to opine that the source of misery is the individual themselves.

Your vexations however, are dictated by two idiosyncratic persons with interests as farther apart as two solar systems. Which isn't a lot if one considers the magnificence of the universe, but distanced enough to be the tillable land of your miseries. Said inconveniences usually arrive dressed as revoked privileges, confiscation of entertainment items and... movie nights.

A night where you're supposed to be enjoying a film as a group shouldn't have been such an adversity if the aforementioned individuals respected the bare minimum of being normal. On usual occasions, who you end up accompanying is maintained through a strict schedule as opposed to the much friskier notion of rolling-dices that was favored by a certain blonde (in which he always emerged victorious and was thus declared irrationally imbalanced by Veritas) — but, an unforseen lapse of management and chaos was bred.

In matters that concern you, it seemed as though even the most seamless co-operations failed to reach a simple consensus. So when the erudite Dr Ratio expressed eagerness to spend a ‘relaxing afternoon’ with your person, it clashed quite clamorously with Aventurine's desire to have you participate in one of his many adrenaline-high games. And because of the decrease in release of dopamine that came from being a frequent observer of their arguments, you ended up suggesting this dreadful activity ; Ratio's silent perusal by your left and Aventurine's equally quiet phone browsing by your right are all that remains of the earlier fiasco.

You consider it a shame, because unbeknownst to them, you actually were plotting ways to watch this particular film. But, when at approximately fifteen minutes into the story you realized you were the only one among you three that was paying it any attention at all — you felt, quite blatantly, deflated. Surprisingly though, that was not the main source of your current misery at all, no, no ; what was causing you distress was the deplorable portion of space that they alloted to you from the couch.

At least Ratio has the habit of crossing his legs subconsciously, making your life just a miniscule easier. Unlike Aventurine whose default setting is to be attached to any patch of your skin anytime you're within his radius and when he brings that to the cauldron of being compressed between him and Ratio — it perfectly justifies why you're dancing between the provocative lines of mild annoyance and a meltdown. You'd believe they forgot about your existence altogether if not for Ratio's definitely-not-intentional shifting and the without context headpats from Aventurine.

Their treatment, although (probably) not deliberate, suggest you to be the equivalent of the pampered housecat and if one was to generously point out the expression on your face at present, that allegation would be right.

You stifle a sigh that transitions into a yawn with your only friend in this dreadful world, your plush pillow. The dialogues exchanged by the actors in the movie gradually become unintelligible as your vision morphs into a kaleidoscope of black dots and patterns. You draw your knees closer until they become parallel to your chin, musing a scenario where you lean so into the couch that it swallows your form and hurls you into a wonderland free of covetous hands or hearts. Where you could roam without eyes attached to every move you make and most importantly, where the notion of inconveniences would cease to exist.

You've seen it happen in shows a younger you indulged in and a passing thought makes you smile sardonically ; the world is so bizarre that you've effortlessly found yourself in a situation as complex as your current one but, not bizarre enough to make fantasies such as these a reality. The noises from the screen, Ratio's nonchalant page turning and the fragrance of Aventurine's cologne make your lucidity sway, until darkness cradles you close.

That night, you found yourself having a rather tender dream. In your dream, the blonde promptly busied himself in positioning you more comfortably on his lap upon feeling your slumbering head hit his shoulder. You felt succinctly amused upon the ‘place the pillow under their head, moron!’ that left a certain virtuoso's lips. Said virtuoso, shifted the rest of your body to be rested on his lap with a gentleness that baffled even Aventurine. Some say that dreams are manifestations of the desires that stay stagnant within the crevices of our minds. If that theory holds even a fraction of credence, then the percipience of what your subconscious desires, leaves you feeling as solemn as sated.

By the hour you gain awareness of the waking world again, there is but silence surrounding the living room. Your first blink is followed by a series of more and your sense of feeling works faster before your sense of sight, it sticks quite insistently just above your knees and atop your head. You roll a bit and realize they are in fact the hands of Ratio and Aventurine respectively, holding you away from kissing the floor and cracking your nose. As your vision gains more clarity, you notice the purple-head, supported by the palm of his left hand and the arm of the couch. You rise up and notice Aventurine mirroring Ratio's position, you conclude them both to be asleep judging by their collective inertia despite your movements.

Your eyes shift downwards towards the pillow on which you rested moments before and seeing it positioned exactly atop Aventurine's lap, confirm your suspicions that the scene you witnessed in your sleep had, in fact, happened in reality. Perhaps the universe heard your hopeless plea and bargained it with this speck of generosity.

They really didn't move an inch — but the bubbling warmth was soon pushed down by — as if I was a cat they didn't want to disturb!

being treated like a cat by two of the most cat-like characters in hsr lol

#requests: batch two #answered #yandere #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere aventurine #yandere aventurine x reader #yandere dr ratio #yandere dr ratio x reader #yandere veritas ratio #yandere veritas ratio x reader #aventurine x reader #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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miley1442111 · 5 months ago

Text

reams and reactions (part 1)- r.cameron

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a/n: HELLO! welcome to my new obx series, don't worry, if you follow me for cm or anything else I'll still be posting that, but i've just been on a obx binge recently so i cooked this story up in my head.

tropes: childhood bestfriends to lovers, enemies to lovers

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader (use of Y/n, and the nickname Bunny/ bun (but i promise not in a weird way there's a story to it i swear it's not just one of those weird smut things))

summary: how you and rafe fell apart, then finally meet again.

warnings: drugs, drug use, drinking, parental and sibling death, kissing, crying, violence, fighting, cursing, guys being creepy, misogyny, asshole dude. (i think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

2k+ words

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When Rafe was 5 years old, he ran with you in the garden of Tannyhill, chasing you in a game of tag. When he finally caught up to you, you both fell to the ground, limbs tangled in the way only friends did, giggling the way only friends do, and he pressed the sweetest kiss to your cheek.

When Rafe was 8, he came sobbing at your doorstep, on the verge of throwing up. He’d run all the way there. His mom was dead. He didn’t know what else to do. Besides his mother, you were the only person you’d ever been there for him like that, showing him that emotions were ok, and normal. When he felt you hugging him, and crying with him, he knew he would be with you forever. That he would stick with you through anything.

When Rafe was 10, he came back to your house after a particularly long day (aka you had no classes together) and you two sat on your couch with your family surrounding you, Romeo and Juliet on the screen. He felt himself blush when your sister made the joke that he was like your Romeo, since your dads didn’t get on. Though you both adamantly denied it, a few minutes later he felt your hand holding his under the blanket, your matching friendship bracelet brushing off each other's skin. He was smitten. A smile landed swiftly on both of your faces.

When Rafe was 13, he watched as you walked down the aisle of his father’s second marriage, a bunch of flowers in hand. He thought you looked beautiful, you were so beautiful. The pale blue dress Rose had picked and, of course, white roses in your hand. You shot him a small smile, one he responded to by blowing you a kiss. You laughed it off and went to stand where you were meant to. Rafe’s eyes were glued to you through the entire ceremony, almost forgetting to give his dad the rings. After the ceremony, you two ran off, away from Tannyhill. You went to your ‘little cove’ as you’d call it. It was a tiny beach just beside your house, but it led into the most magnificent field full of wildflowers, insects, and tall grass. It was beautiful. You and Rafe spent the whole night there, joking and talking. Then he finally mustered up the courage to kiss you. You kissed him back, but you’d both never speak about it again, too scared to mess up your incredible decade of friendship.

When Rafe was 15, he saw you for the last time. Three months earlier you had come to him, sobbing about the fact that you were moving to California of all places. More than a day's drive away. 42 hour drive. He promised you, no, swore to you that you’d keep in touch, that you’d be there for each other even with the distance.

He was wrong. After a few months, he’d stopped texting back, stopped calling back, stopped being there for you. And he never saw you again.

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Rafe woke up with a banging headache and an uncontrollable urge to vomit but swallowed it back and took the glass of water that remained on his bedside table for days at a time. Today was going to be shit. It was the 28th of July, the day you left him, and the day his world got turned upside down. This day was always hard. He was reminded of everything he’d messed up in life. What was he now? A drug addicted, drunk, piece of shit. He was barely getting by in college and he’d already had to repeat a year twice. Often, he’d go to your little cove and sit, thinking about what you were doing now. Were you a teacher, like you’d wanted to be as a kid? Were you an artist? He remembered how good you were at sketching. Were you even alive and he’d missed the funeral? What did you look like? What colour was your hair? Did you think about him?

Everything was too loud in his mind. He grabbed a beer, and set on his way. The cove was in full bloom, a sea of colours under the boiling sun. He sat in his usual spot, the spot where you two had kissed. You two had these small chairs that Rafe barely fit in then, and definitely didn’t fit in now, so he sat beside them. What time was it? Was the sun going down? He searched in his pocket for his phone, only to find it dead.

“Excuse me?” He turned to see a girl shouting from across the field.

“Yeah?” he called back, feeling rather inconvenienced by the whole ordeal.

“Do the Cameron’s still live in Tannyhill?” She asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Just an old friend, thanks!”

And she walked off. He tried to remember her physical features as best he could, but ultimately forgot them in his pursuit of washing his troubles away with the beer in his hand.

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“Y/n? Is that you?!” Sarah squealed as she leant out the window of the Twinkie.

“Sarah?” You practically ran into the road to meet her. The car was stopped at a stop-light, and she pulled you in to properly greet you.

“Oh my god! It is so good to see you!” She smiled. Despite you and Rafe’s falling out, you’d stayed in touch with Sarah, even though you were a little older than her. You even followed Wheezie on instagram and texted back and forth sometimes. But Rafe… static. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I’m here to teach, I just finished my 2nd year of college and I’m doing my work experience here!” You explained, as she pulled away from the hug.

“So you’re going to be here, like for the whole year?”

“Not just the whole year, I’m moving back once I'm done with my exams,” you explained. “I’m doing this programme that means I can work from here and do college from here, I’m so fucking sick of California.”

Both Sarah and Kiara squealed with excitement, and the three boys cheered. You’d been friends with the pogues, being a sort of pogue-kook hybrid.

Kiara pulled you in for a hug, then Pope, then Jj, then John B gave your hand a squeeze instead, since he was busy driving.

“So you’re back for good?” Kie asked.

“I’m back for as long as you’ll have me,” you smiled.

“We have to celebrate tonight!” Jj cheered.

“There’s a party down at Figure 8, I’m sure Y/n’s kook heritage will get us in,” Pope shrugged and you all agreed.

You spent the rest of the afternoon hanging around the pogues and Sarah and got ready at Kiara’s place for the party. Her parents welcomed you back with open arms, and then asked the dreaded question of ‘how are your parents?’

Your parents had been dead for 3 years. They’d died in an accident, and you’d been alone since then.

“They’re good,” you lied. “Working hard back in California.”

That satisfied them, and they stopped asking.

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The Figure 8 party was just how you remembered them to be. Loud, drunk, and almost too much. Even though you had been 14 at the time, Rafe had convinced you to come to one, since he was friends with some older kooks who wanted him there. Halfway through you told him you were going home, and instead of just waving you off, he brought you to your little cove, and sat with you for a couple hours. After that he brought you back to his house, and you had a sleepover.

When you’d asked him why he did that, he’d just shrugged and said ‘I prefer being around you.’

God, you could’ve married that man. You were supposed to, if your diary ‘ideal life’ had gone to plan.

Step One: Start dating Rafe

Step Two: Become highschool sweethearts and make it through college (even if it's long distance) and become a teacher!

Step Three: Work as a teacher and live on the mainland for a few years, have Rafe propose in the little cove, say yes, obviously and start wedding planning.

Step Four: Have the wedding at Tannyhill, move into a house on Figure 8 and start having kids, we’ll have 4 or 5 (Rafe wants 7 kids????? 4 or 5 is pushing it buddy), and live a long happy life as a teacher with Rafe and our family.

Step Five: Die happy.

Ok, it wasn’t exactly inspired, but come on, you were 13.

You noticed what looked like a grown version of Topper in the crowd and when he turned and saw you, a smile grew on his face. He ran over and scooped you up in a hug.

“Bun! You’re back!”

Bun was the nickname you were given as a kid because well, you liked bunnies. You had two as a kid, and for a year, you wouldn’t respond to someone unless they called you bun. It was ridiculous, but people obliged all the same. You'd never regretted anything more in your life in that moment.

“Hey Topper,” you smiled.

“Have you seen Rafe yet?” he asked.

“No, not yet,” you smiled slightly faltered, but you kept the smile up for good appearances. When you’d gone to Tannyhill yesterday, only Ward, Rose, and Wheezie were in, so your anxiety around seeing Rafe had grown. One day, he’d just stopped replying. Not one reason, not one apology. Nothing. One part of you wanted to say he didn’t even deserve to see you, and another missed her best friend/ supposed love of her life. “Is he around?”

“He is, but he’s high as shit,” Topper laughed. Rafe Cameron? Rafe Cameron was getting high?

“Rafe is high?”

“Oh yeah, he’s totally into all that shit now,” he laughed and you noticed the dilated pupils, the white residue on his nose, the red, irritated skin of his nose. He was high too. “It’s good shit too, you want some?”

“I’m good, just point me in Rafe’s direction,” you nodded, deeply uncomfortable with the drugs around. You’d grown up with a brother who did drugs, who’d died from drugs at the young age of 17. You didn’t want anything to do with drugs, but here you were, being led into one of the Figure 8 mansions to be led to Rafe Cameron, selling, and doing drugs.

“Gentleman, I present to you, the Princess of Figure 8, making her great return, Bunny!” he cheered as all eyes turned to you. The group of boys cheered, getting up to give you a group hug. Rafe stayed seated.

“How’s life on the mainland Bun?How was Cali?” Kelce asked, sitting down beside you as you joined the circle, trying to ignore the cocaine on the table.

“It’s fine, but I’m back in the Outer Banks for good now,” you smiled as another round of cheers rippled through the group.

“We’re finally good enough for you again?” Topper joked. “What’s brought you back home huh? Aside from the strapping young men?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m teaching here Top, I'm in my third year of college.”

“Shit no way, you’re a teacher?” Ryan, a sleeze you remembered from school. He was always the creepy guy, trying to look up girls' skirts and play kiss-tag at the ripe old age of 12. “You're way too sexy to be a teacher. You should be a pornstar or something.”

You felt bile rise in your stomach as a handful of the boys laughed at the joke.

“That’s not funny,” Kelce defended. “Fuck off asshole.”

“What? You and I both have eyes and we can both see her tits. Too bad Cameron has dibs.”

You froze and looked to Rafe who was looking at you through hooded eyes.

The silence was awkward, and you knew it was time to take your leave, even though you hadn’t said a word to Rafe, so you said your goodbyes and left in search of the pogues.

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“Gentleman, I present to you, the Princess of Figure 8, making her great return, Bunny!” Topper announced as all eyes turned to you.

Holy fucking shit. You were gorgeous, and it was you. Rafe’s Y/n. Rafe’s Bun. He was shocked to see you in the Outer Banks again, let alone in person again. You were here. In front of him. Then he realised, you were here. Here, where there was cocaine on the table, and he was the one selling it. Here, where there were about three guys looking at you like you were a piece of meat. Here, where he sat at the top of the table, stoned out of his mind.

“How’s life on the mainland Bun? How was Cali?” Kelce asked, sitting down beside you as you joined the circle. Rafe could see you trying to ignore the table, staring directly at Kelce, all your attention on him. He couldn’t help but feel jealous. You were his best friend before you were anyone else’s friend. He’d known you better than anyone. And here he was, silent as he watched you talk to everyone else.

“It’s fine, but I’m back in the Outer Banks for good now.”

His heart almost stopped. Back in the Outer Banks, for good.

“We’re finally good enough for you again?” Topper joked. “What’s brought you back home huh? Aside from the strapping young men?”

You rolled your eyes at him, but Rafe could tell it was playful. God, his life was so fun when you had been in it. Impromptu boat rides and trips to the mainland, spending hours just talking and laughing about nothing and everything all at the same time. He missed it. He missed you.“I’m teaching here Top, I'm in my third year of college.”

“Shit no way, you’re a teacher?” Ryan. Rafe often wondered why he even kept him around. He could feel the awful comment coming, but he knew he couldn’t stop it. “You're way too sexy to be a teacher. You should be a pornstar or something.”

Rafe felt the anger boil in his blood the second he said it. Ryan should’ve known better than to talk about you like that.

“That’s not funny,” Kelce defended, beating Rafe to it. “Fuck off asshole.”

“What? You and I both have eyes and we can both see her tits. Too bad Cameron has dibs.”

Rafe stared back at you as you truly looked at him for the first time that night. He couldn’t tell how you felt, something he didn’t like. Ever since you two were kids, he could always tell how you were feeling, what you were thinking. He could always anticipate what you needed. He didn’t know now and it scared him. He just looked back into your beautiful eyes, allowing himself to be lost in the fact that you were here in front of him.

The silence was awkward and he knew it, so he didn’t protest when you took your leave, even if he wanted to. He spoke when he knew you were out of ear and eyeshot, he didn't need you know what he was about to do.

“Ryan?” he scoffed. “You have ten seconds.”

“Until what?” Ryan chuckled.

Rafe counted down the seconds in his head, Topper and Kelce became more and more uneasy as the seconds went by.

Rafe didn’t even give warning, he just got up, grabbed a nearby beer bottle, and smashed it over his head. Nobody dared to stop him, not even when he started punching Ryan, promising to kill him if he ever spoke about you like that again.

People knew not to fuck with Rafe and, even after all these years, you were an extension of Rafe. Too bad Ryan forgot that.

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obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron one shot #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader fluff #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x reader angst #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader

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bethanythebogwitch · 5 months ago

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Wet Beast Wednesday: beluga

Welcome back to Wet Beast Wednesday and cine it's been unbearably hot here I'm going north to discuss the magnificent beluga. The whale, not the sturgeon. I know a few of you will be disappointed by that, but I'll get to sturgeons eventually. The beluga is one of the most popular cetaceans and it is threatened. Let's learn why this white whale has more to fear from Captain Ahab than the other way around.

(Image: a beluga whale seen from the side. It is an animal reminiscent of a dolphin that is white all over. It lacks a dorsal fin and its head is bulbous with a short snout. End ID)

Belugas (Delphinapterus leucas) are one of two whales in the family Monodontide, the other being the narwhal (which has its own WBW you can read if you can tolerate by complete inability to write useful image descriptions back then). Belugas are small for whales, reaching 5.5 meters (18 ft) and 1,600 kg (3,530 ft), with males being about 25% larger than females. The name beluga comes from the Russian word for "white" and is fitting because belugas are, uniquely among cetaceans, bright white all over. Belugas have short snouts and enlarged melons, giving their heads a distinctive lumpy shape. The melon is an organ containing fat and wax that helps with echolocation by focusing and amplifying sound produced and received by the whale. Uniquely amongst whales, the beluga can alter the shape of its melon at will. This likely assist echolocation by altering factors such as the direction, frequency, and size of the echolocatory clicks. Another unusual feature of belugas is their lack of a dorsal fin. Instead, they have a short ridge running down the back that serves the same function, which is aiding in turning and keeping the animal from rolling over. Belugas and narwhals are also the only whales with unfused neck vertebrae, meaning they can turn their heads side to side. The lack of dorsal fin and mobile neck helps belugas navigate under sea ice without getting stuck.

(Image: a shot of a beluga's head emerging from the water. Its skin is slightly wrinkled and has a yellowish tint, indicating it will molt soon. End ID)

Belugas are carnivores who hunt fish, squid, and other invertebrates. Belugas are slower than most toothed whales and their teeth are tiny, eliminating the possibility of chasing down prey or ripping apart large prey. Instead, they hunt via suction. By suddenly opening their mouths, belugas create a vacuum that water and food is sucked into. Belugas swallow their food whole. Belugas have also been observed hunting prey on the seafloor by spitting water to blow away sediment covering buried animals. Belugas are social animals that hunt in groups. They will cooperate to herd prey into kill zones or have a few belugas break off of the pod to chase prey toward the rest. While hunting, belugas will dive in search of food. The typical dive reaches around 20 meters (66 ft) for 3-5 minutes, but can dive up to 900 m (2,953 ft) deep and last up to 20 minutes. Often the whales make a sequence of 5-6 shallow dives followed by a deeper one. During dives, the heart rate drops from 100 beats per minute to 12-20 and blood is redirected to the brain, heart, and lungs to conserve oxygen. Furthermore, oxygen can also be stored in the muscle and the red blood cells carry more oxygen then those in land mammals.

(Image: a beluga foraging for food near the seafloor. It is rotates so its belly faces the camera. Its head is down, looking toward the camera. Three other belugas are visible in the background. End ID)

Belugas are social animals who live in pods that typically reach a maximum of 25 members. Unlike some cetaceans, pod membership is not family based or fixed. Members will leave their pods to join others at will. Belugas are highly playful and when they are not hunting, they tend to play with each other. Games observed in the wild include chasing, play-fighting, rubbing against each other, synchronized diving, and playing with and carrying objects. Belugas in captivity show more complex play behavior including blowing bubbles for others to pop, something similar to Simon says, and following and startling human observers. Physical contact seems to be important to belugas as they will rub against each other and make mouth-to-mouth contact as an apparent sign of affection. Belugas both in the wild and captivity are curious and will approach humans. Belugas in aquariums will examine humans through the glass while those in the wild will approach boats and even interact with humans in small vessels. Belugas have also been known to follow bowhead whales, likely because the larger whales are better at punching breathing holes in ice. They have also been observed joining narwhal pods. Belugas are some of the most vocal cetacean species and have a very wide range of vocalizations with 11 distinct types of sounds. Belugas use these noises to communicate and do so frequently. Captive specimens vocalize to each other almost non-stop. Like with some other cetaceans, beluga vocalizations show region-based distinctions that may be akin to regional dialects or different languages. Belugas are sometimes called canary whales due to their high-pitched noises.

(Image: a pod of 6 belugas seen from above. One has exhaled, leaving a trail of bubbles. A single male narwhal has joined this pod and is swimming with them. The narwhal has a similar body shape but is skinnier and a mottle gray and white color. A long, straight, tusk extends from the front of its head. End ID)

youtube

(video: an employee at Mystic Aquarium, Mystic, Connecticut, USA instructing a Beluga to demonstrate a variety of vocalizations. End ID)

Belugas live in Arctic and sub-Arctic marine waters. Different populations of belugas have been identified based on their home region. Belugas migrate seasonally. During summer, they spend their time along coasts and in estuaries. In winter, when the ice sheets expand and cover their summer habitat, belugas move to the open ocean, hunting alongside or underneath the ice. Some populations who live in coastal ares that do not frees do not migrate. Migration patterns are passed from parent to child. During summer, belugas will come together in massive pods that can number hundred to thousands. All the belugas in a given population group will typically travel to the same summer water. Belugas may reduce or eliminate their food intake during migration. While primarily marine, belugas often summer in estuarine bays and will even swim up river. Belugas have been found up to 1,700 km (1,056 mi) upriver. They may chase migrating fish upriver and mothers with calves likely use rivers as a safe place away from predators. Exposure to fresh water also seems to help with the yearly process of shedding their skin and growing a new layer, something that must be done in warmer water. Belugas may rub themselves against gravel at the bottom of rivers to help loosen their shed skin.

(Image: two narwhals with their head sticking out of the water. They are nuzzling their faces together. End ID)

Most belugas mate between February and May, though they have been observed mating at other times of the year. Gestation is estimated to last between 12 and 14 months. Belugas usually give birth in the warmer waters of their summer habitats. It is possible that belugas can delay fertilization, storing sperm internally to fertilize at a later time. This could help females ensure they give birth at the correct time. During mating season, male beluga's testicles double in size. They prefer to mate in the early morning, between 3 and 4 AM local time. Calves are born around 1.5 m (4.9 ft) and 80 kg (180 lbs). Beluga calves are grey and will have lightened to their adult coloration by age 4. Calves are dependent on their mother's milk for their first year, at which point the teeth grow in. After this point, they will begin supplementing their diet with small fish and shrimp. Most calves wean after 20 months, but there have been cases of calves continuing to nurse for over 2 years. Females will not mate again until their current calf has weaned or died. The average reproduction rate is one calf every 3 years. Belugas in captivity have been seen taking care of the calves of other females. There have also been cases observed in captivity of a pregnant female or female who has lost a calf stealing the calf of another female. It is not known if this behavior happens in the wild, but it is seen in other species of mammal. Males reach sexual maturity at ages 7 - 9 and females at ages 4 - 7. Females seem to undergo menopause around age 40. The maximum lifespan of belugas in the wild is unknown, though some estimates put their lifespan at 70-80 years. Genetic testing has revealed the existence of beluga/narwhal hybrids.

(Image: a juvenile beluga born in the Shedd Aquarium, Chicago, Illinois, USA. It resembles an adult, but is smaller and gray. It is sticking its head out of the water by the ends of its tank. An adult beluga, presumably the mother, is doing the same thing in the background. End ID)

Belugas are classified as least concern by the IUCN, meaning they are not at risk of extinction. The species was commercially hunted heavily in the past for blubber, meat, and skin. beluga skin is the only cetacean skin that can be cured into leather and was used to make some of the first bulletproof vests. Fishermen also killed belugas as they considered them to be a threat to the fish population. Once the end of international whaling, beluga numbers have recovered. In modern times, belugas have national and international legal protections, though indigenous communities in Russia, Greenland, Canada, and Alaska have special permissions to hunt them in keeping with historic practices. These hunted belugas are used for food and their bones and teeth are carved. Belugas are considered a good sentinel species, a species that can be used as an indicator of environmental health. Belugas can sequester pollutants in their cells for long periods of time and are susceptible to pollution. As belugas are near the top of the food chain, toxic chemicals can bio-accumulate up the trophic levels to be sequestered in them. This means that deceased or captured belugas can be examined to get an idea of what pollutants are in their habitat. Belugas are also negatively affected by the noise of boats, which can interfere with their echolocation, drive them from their habitats, and causes considerable stress. Climate change also poses a threat to the species as it alters their environment. Natural predators of the beluga include orcas and polar bears.

(Image: a black-and-white photograph of Alaskan Inuit carving of animals on a piece of beluga bone. End ID. Source: Canadian Museum of Natural History)

Belugas were among the first cetaceans to be kept in captivity and are still some of the most popular cetaceans found in aquariums, zoos, and other establishments. They are considered good aquarium animals due to their docile temperaments and charismatic personalities. Belugas can be easily trained to perform tricks and submit to medical examination. Ethical concerns over the treatment of captive cetaceans has been raised and a growing number of locations are banning or regulating cetaceans in captivity. Most captive belugas were captured form the wild. Captive breeding programs have been mostly unsuccessful. Belugas raised in captivity rarely thrive when released into the wild, with individuals who were not fed by humans showing the greatest success when released. One captive beluga was reported to be able to mimic human speech. From the 1970s to the 90s, the US navy studied beluga echolocation and trained belugas to seek out submerged objects while wearing or carrying cameras. During the cold war, the Soviet navy trained belugas to assist in removing naval mines. In 2019, a tame beluga named Hvaldimir was found in Norway wearing a Russian harness for mounting equipment, leading to speculations that Russia is still training belugas for military purposes.

(Image: two people in wetsuits identifying them as employees of Shedd Aquarium. They have a bowl of fish and are instructing a beluga to open its mouth. End ID)

#wet beast wednesday #beluga #beluga whale #whale #toothed whale #whales #cetaceans #cetacean #marine mammals #marine biology #biology #zoology #ecology #animal facts #informative #educational #image described #Youtube

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pinescent-and-gingerbread · 6 months ago

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࣪ ˖✧ Sweet Coffee

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: The morning after Sean's return party, a sheepish Arthur faces the consequences of his drinking excess. ✦ Warnings: None, this is as fluffy as the first part. ✦ Words: 3,9k ✦ a/n: This is a sequel of this one shot! Please, read it before this one :) Also, I've taken the liberty to write this as if Arthur still had Boadicea, to me it was the best way to make him have a canon horse. Gonna think about a better solution in the future.

You opened your eyes, slowly. The ceiling of your tent was turning a bit, your heart feeling like it was on the verge of leaking out of your chest. It was as if your bed was a boat, pitching with the winds and the waves; you had to prevent yourself from throwing up, a spinning sensation making your guts feel rancid.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You thought to yourself while stretching in your cot, every fiber of muscles in your body feeling worn. Your brain was mushy, unable to form any complex reflection, your forehead hurting, your mouth dry. The consequence of every party; the goddamn hangover.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You slowly sat at the edge of your bed, taking the time to move your tired members, realizing your throat was extremely sore. You probably sang a little too much last night. You get up and walk to the little cleaning area of your tent which consisted of only a simple table topped with a little mirror, a bucket of water, and a solitary towel. Nothing fancy, but at least you had your own tent, which was already a grand luxury at camp.

Water. Coffee. Breakfast.

You take long sips of water from the bucket before cleaning up your face, looking at it in the mirror. Of course, under your eyes, big shady circles, sickles of violet darkness under the sharp radiance of your pupils. It was part of the whole hangover package. You quickly fixed your hair and put on some fresh clothes, mindlessly.

Coffee, breakfast, Arthur.

Wait, what? You thought you were going on with your morning routine thoughtlessly, but here he was. Always following you, a shadow in the back of your mind; his stupid smile like imprinted on the obscure abyss of your psyche, shining, blazing, magnificent. Haunting.

You were thinking about him very often lately, maybe too often, you noted to yourself. John's word had sealed your opinion's fate on the matter: Arthur could have behaved that way with any other girl at camp.

And yet. Yet you longed for it, for last night to mean something, anything. For you to be more than just any girl to him. For the drunken honest words he had spoken before drifting away in the sweet caress of sleep to be true. You sighed. Too much false hope would lead your heart to be even more broken, you knew it.

And yet. The shadow of his smile. The sound of his deep, powerful laugh. Following you everywhere as you got out of your tent, eyes narrowing at the bright light of the day, almost as bright and vibrant as the subject of your thoughts; almost.

Your path led you more by habits than by an actual decision of yours to the campfire next to Pearson's wagon, and you were delighted to see one of your obsessive needs was already there: a hot coffee pot, releasing a small puff of smoke had been prepared. Blessed was the divine human being who made it. You took a cup and poured some of the holy providential liquid into it, the mere smell of it already waking you up a little bit. The taste was strong, bitter; rough like your life was as an outlaw in a gang, but at least it would help you clear your head and maybe get a certain someone out of it.

As you sipped on the warm beverage, you took a look around at your surroundings. The camp offered you a pitiful but quite amusing sight. It was a real mess, as if a tornado had passed by and turned everything upside down. The Ocean of empty bottles was still present, spilling everywhere between the different people's tents. People who were slowly emerging from them, with tired eyes and ruffled hair, some of them speaking more quietly than usual, rubbing their temples, navigating through shattered glass and chaos of debris, remnants of the agitation that had taken place the night before. You chuckled to yourself. One of the more feared gangs in the West? Certainly not after a party.

Abigail was already starting to clean the pieces of glass, getting angry about how this wasn't a proper place to raise her kid. Honestly, she was right, and you wanted to help her. Ms Grimshaw would probably force you to anyway, and this idea was reinforced when you noticed her from afar, already yelling at Karen to get up and start the cleaning.

Before getting attention from the strict woman, you took a step to go and do your part but stopped in your tracks. A familiar rugged face had appeared from his tent and was heading up in your direction.

Arthur was feeling too much. Too much sensations, too much feelings, just way too much of everything. His thoughts were trying to work as fast as he could considering his slowed brain, the aftermath of his excess from last night preventing him from being as efficient as normal.

The main focus of his reflection was you. He was obsessed to know what had happened, to understand why he had so many memories about you from last night, and quite intimate ones. He was praying he didn't do anything stupid with you; were you two even okay? Had he offended you? Had he been respectful? He needed to know, he needed to make sure he hadn't screwed everything up between you two. And at the same time, he was ashamed. So ashamed of having drunk so much he wasn't even able to remember what had happened. He was so anxious to confront you about it. To hear the truth, hear you say he had been a pig, and you'd never want to see him again, because that was probably what had happened. He was convinced of it.

As he saw you drinking your morning coffee by the fire from his cot, he quickly had changed, tried to clean up a bit, and made sure he had nothing stuck between his teeth or anything else of that type that could make him pass for an even bigger fool than he already was. He had chosen one of the less damaged shirts he had, a simple green but at least not holey flannel, all his clothes being more or less in a bad state anyway. Two leathered suspenders on, keeping black basic pants from falling. Damn, his reflection in the mirror looked even uglier than usual with his lack of sleep and post-party face. He sighed deeply, screw it. He needed to talk to you, at all costs, he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything else properly otherwise. He tried to actually brush his hair, a thing he never bothered to do normally; he even tried to use some hair pomade, combed them in all directions possible, anything to make them look less messy. Nothing was working. He sighed again, getting angry, and just decided to put his hat on to hide this disaster.

This was already too complicated and he hadn't spoken any words yet.

Now walking straight to you, every step he took was followed by a worried thought, his heart tightening more and more as he was getting closer to the campfire you were standing next to. What had he done? Were you mad at him? Would you even agree to speak to him? Did he look good enough? Shit, he probably still must reeks of whiskey, he should have gone to town and taken a bath, stupid moron! But it was too late. Your eyes had crossed his, you had seen him approaching. There was no going back.

Finally arriving at the campfire, the poor nervous man stood at a respectful distance from you and cleared his throat. He didn't even had taken the time to think about what to say. Moron.

"G'd mornin', Y/N." He greeted you, his tone almost a bit too formal, a trace of his troubled state. His voice sounded huskier and harsher than what he wanted to, you were the first person he actually talked to since waking up and you could hear it with how hoarse his vocal cords were.

Besides it, you couldn't have guessed how much was going on inside his head; his expression was as neutral as usual, his own way of defending himself against the flurry of feelings that was taking place inside of him. You smiled at him, a mischievous, playful smile. You had so much to tease him about. Before the party, you two would already messed with each other a lot, and now you had a whole night of details you could use for it.

"Good morning, Mister Morgan... Guess someone was a little thirsty last night, mmh?" You answered, looking at him. His eyes crossed yours, he cracked up a smile too. His shoulders seemed to go down a bit, less tensed. In reality, he was so relieved to hear you tease him and to see your smile. You weren't mad. He silently thanked the Lord for that.

"I, erm... Maybe I drank a little t'much..." He replied with an embarrassed grin, his eyes looking at his feet before planting them back right into yours. He decided to ask you right away. Arthur never beat around the bush, this time was no exception. "L'sten, I don't... I don't remember much 'bout last night and... I hope I didn't bother ya."

His bright blue pupils were looking intensely into yours as he waited for your answer. He always looked at people like this, always keeping eye contact, as if it was a quiet duel and he would lose it if he stopped; but God, it made your heart melt a little.

"Oh, Arthur." You started, smiling some more realizing he was actually worried about you. "Don't worry, you didn't do anything wrong. To me at least. I remember you losing your nerves and punching Micah in the face." You answered his question, chuckling in the end.

"Why, this bastard had it comin'..." Arthur replied, scratching the side of his jaw, the slight grin still present on his lips, telling himself that it was definitely something he was capable of.

"You sing pretty good when you're drunk..." You added, tone playful.

Arthur sighed, he was enjoying more and more of this conversation he had feared in the beginning.

"Oh stop it, I don't." He retorted, his fingers scratching one last time before falling to his belt, both his hands gripping it, a standing position he often had when talking and didn't know what to do with his arms. Honestly, you were quite fond of it.

"You want some coffee, songbird ?" You questioned with a teasing tone, already grabbing a new cup and the pot. You knew he would say yes.

"Yeah, thank you." He replied at first, before frowning. "Don't ya start calling me that!" He added with a firmer tone, but his small smile was still stuck on his face while grabbing the hot cup you were handing to him.

"You're also quite a dancer..." You teased him once more with your mischievous voice, knowing you were pushing his limits with your remarks.

"Damn it, woman! Can't believe I was worried 'bout ya, while ya're teasin' me like this..."

"Yeah, I'm such a nasty woman..."

"Nah, you're the sweetest." He corrected you, a bit too quickly for it to be innocent. A quick, subtle flicker in his eyes showed you he was surprised with himself; the words had come out on their own.

You smiled widely, cheeks turning a bit red. You were praying it wasn't too obvious to him. Arthur was still looking at you, two indigo miniature seas fixated on you, even while drinking his beverage. The more he was, the more those vivid memories he had were making their way back to his mind. While looking at your waist, he remembered having held it at some point during the party, which explained how he learned how your clothes felt underneath his fingers. His breath quietly hitched when he realized how he knew about the softness of your leg: he recalled having an arm curled up around it at the end of the night. Shit... He really had been unruly. After a short silence, Arthur spoke again. He wanted to make sure, he needed to make sure.

"Erm... Can I ask ya if we... Did anythin' happen b'tween us while I was drunk ?"

"No, you've just been a bit... Tactile. But nothing happened." You answered his question honestly, wanting him to know the truth. After all, Arthur was your friend, and there was a whole step between gently teasing and actually tormenting him. "Oh and, you said you loved me."

Arthur almost choked on his coffee, a short strangled sound escaping from his throat, some drops of the hot liquid falling on his shirt. The only decent shirt he had was ruined. But it was the least of his problems. What the actual Hell had gotten into him? He was an even worse fool than he thought, and the bar was already low.

"I... What ?" Were the only words he was able to form, one of his hands wiping the coffee from his chin.

"Don't worry, John told me you've made it a habit to tell women that when you're drunk, apparently. We don't have to make a bit deal out of this." You reassured him. He really looked ashamed of his behavior, and you didn't wanted to make him feel even worse.

But Oh Lord, if only you knew. If only you could have understood how much he wanted to make a big deal out of it; how much he had wanted to properly say those three words to you. He was almost disappointed in a way, that you were so quick to forget about it, as if it had been a simple joke to you, something amusing a drunkard had said in a moment of alcoholic eccentricity.

"Ah, alright. Well, I'm happy ya not mad at me." He simply added, honestly not knowing what to say or how to act anymore.

Tell her. Tell her she means the World to you. Tell her you have spoken the truth. This was the best chance you would have.

But the words were stuck, and as fast as a breeze would have swept away petals of flowers, Ms. Grimshaw asked for you with her usual severe call, and off you were gone, wishing him a good day and telling him he didn't have to worry about last night, even adding your typical teasing comments, advising him to join a choir were he could flourish his singing talent.

Looking at you walking off, he sighed again, calling himself a moron for at least the twentieth time since he had gotten up. Looking down at his cup of coffee, almost empty, just like the hurtful sensation he was experiencing right now inside his heart, he got angry again. This was enough. He threw the rest of the coffee on the ground, put the cup in his satchel out of habit, and walked straight to his horse.

The afternoon passed slowly and quietly. You basically spent it tidying up the camp, the number of dishes almost twice as big as usual, and the endless amount of bottles and garbage looking like it was only getting larger the more you were cleaning them up. Thankfully, Ms Grimshaw had put every girl in camp to work too, and you weren't alone on your impossible task while the men were back on their usual activities, whether it was lazying around for Uncle and the Reverand, guarding camp for Bill and Charles, or going back on jobs for the others. You hadn't seen Arthur since your morning discussion with him, and you had concluded he probably had gone somewhere to do his own work. As the sun was getting down, the camp had ultimately taken back its usual appearance, and you were finally free from your chores.

You decided to go to the edge of the camp, behind the wagons, where the cliff was starting and was offering a breathtaking view of the mountains in front of you. At this time of day, in the dusky sun, the landscape was painted with beautiful golden and bronze colors, dazzling blend of warm tones, ephemeral treasure from the last sunrays of the day before the settlement of the night's darkness.

Lost in your contemplation, you didn't hear footsteps approaching. The shrill and recognizable sound of spurs along with the heavy stomping of a horse's hooves made you turn your head from the literal work of art you had under your nose, and your gaze fell on another one from a different nature; Arthur was walking up to you, holding Boadicea's reins into his hands, his blue gaze already fixated on you, slight frown on his forehead, looking as determined as if he was going in for a fight.

He looked different from earlier, you swore he was wearing a brand new shirt you had never seen, a fresh white one, and a black jacket which must have gone with a fancy suit. As he was heading towards you, you noticed and could smell he had taken a bath, and trimmed his beard more than usual. He looked neat, refreshed, it was quite unusual for him. You could feel how your blood was rushing at the simple sight of all this: he was undoubtedly handsome, as breath-taking as the landscape around you.

"Y/N." He greeted you with a determined voice, once he had come close to you. He let go of the reigns, letting his mare free, but she stayed right where she was and started to graze happily. He took his hat off and held it in his hands, probably out of politeness. Such a gentleman, as always around women. You had always found it quite endearing how rough he was but at the same time how respectful towards girls, complying with conventions just like an honest man would. However you were a bit confused, he had never bothered to do that with you before, only with the women he didn't knew.

"Arthur, are you alright? Did Trelawny force you to get clean up ?" You joked a bit, genuinely surprised by his appearance and sudden polite behavior.

"What? N-no..." He stuttered. He never stuttered. You could feel it flowing into you like last night: this terrible, powerful feeling of hope. Your whole being was filled with it as your eyes were glued to him, like a moth to a flame, like a moon to its celestial body.

"I erm... I got somthin' for ya." He said almost shyly. Shyly. You couldn't believe what you were witnessing. It was nearly too good to be true.

Maybe... Maybe the words he had spoken to you... Maybe his tactile behavior... Your thoughts were going entirely crazy, spiraling around the deep feeling that something really important was on the verge of happening. You watched, in awe, as Arthur turned his back to you in order to pull off from Boadiccea's saddle a gorgeous flower bouquet.

"I know it ain't much but... I've picked 'em for you..." He said quietly, his voice slow and deep as usual, but also a bit more vulnerable. You could see just how flustered he was, how unusual it was for him to put himself in such a situation. And it made you more happy than anything for such a long time. Your eyes, traveling from his insanely cute bashful face to the flowers, were now stuck on it. The colors were vibrant and surprisingly well-matched, almost like a painting, the petals going from deep red to a warm golden yellow. You couldn't prevent a deep blush from flushing your cheeks; it really was warming your heart.

"They're beautiful! Thank you so much..." You marveled, vision attached to his gift, admiring every detail about it. After a short moment, as you realized he had felt silent, you spoke again, a wave of boldness crashing onto you. He had made a step towards you, now it was your turn.

"Arthur... The words you said to me last night..." You began, your eyes slowly ascending to look at his again. To your surprise, you found him looking away.

Another hint, another glimmer of the internal storm of emotions Arthur was feeling right now. Your own heart started to beat faster; the blood flooding so fast in your veins at this point you're wondering how the hell your body is keeping it all up together without collapsing under the pressure.

Arthur doesn't answer. Instead, he simply looks back at you, a flash of apprehension in his turquoise diamonds. He stays silent, unable to say anything more. His own heart must be on the verge of bursting cause you recognize the faintest of red on his own cheeks and a little vein on his temple. What a sight, to have this grown man, one of the stronger men in the gang, probably the fastest gunslinger of the State, blushing because of you.

"Those words were true, right?" You finish your sentence with an encouraging expression and the softest smile you had.

Arthur exhaled, closing his eyes for just a few seconds before planting them back into yours and nodding. Still silent, still stoic, still nervous. The slight blush was unhurriedly spreading on his face just like a flaming stain of watercolor on a canvas. Your very own art piece.

"I love you too, Arthur." You finally confided to him, voice soft and low, as if it was a confession you would have told him in the middle of the night, intimate as secrets you'd both tell each other in the ear while lying together in the same bed, arms interlaced, heart intertwined, as everything around you both would disappear. And in the moment, for Arthur, everything did.

He carefully brought a hand on the side of your face, never breaking his deep starring until the last second, and slowly bent over to put his lips on yours. Every move he was making was measured, contained; the exact opposite of his unleashed behavior at the party. You could feel just how cautious he was in that moment, as if he was scared to hurt you, or make you flee.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, never letting go of the bouquet that was now hanging behind his back in your thankful right hand. His own was still on your head, fingers gently caressing your skin as the kiss was dragging on. His lips, although chapped, felt good against yours, taking their rightful place there.

After what felt like an eternity of sweetness, he pulled back. If you thought he was blushing before, it was nothing compared to his cheeks right now, the deep crimson shade having completely recovered the canvas. Finally, his body's muscles relaxing, his features softening, a big, wide smile appeared on his face; the same that had been haunting you since the night before. The stupid smile. Just for you.

"I love you too, for real I mean." He let out in a soft drawling voice, once you had never heard coming from him. He brought his forehead to rest against yours, closing his eyes, not even processing this was really happening.

"I hope you'll sing again for me, Arthur." You couldn't help but add, a playful tone and a slight smirk on your lips.

"For ya, maybe, sweetheart. But don't ya come complainin' about the rainin' after."

#My own brand new dividers!#Arthur's photo is from my playthrough but the other pictures come from Pinterest.#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 photography #arthur morgan fluff #pinefic

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twizzie-lairs · 10 months ago

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My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Quick Notes:

This is when both reader/you and Alastor are both alive. (... we'll probably end up in hell later on btw so stay tuned...)

Reader is an artist/painter.

Part 5:

It was almost pure bliss.

Except many months later, you found out a secret of his one day.

He was an exceptional chef, you were always in awe of how he cooked such magnificent dishes every day.

But one day, you peeked out into the forest through the window in the living room and saw Alastor standing alone, covered in blood. Your first instinct was to run outside, so you did just that.

You rush to his side and ask if he's okay, and what had happened to make him covered in such copious amounts of blood.

He blinks a few times before oddly turning his head to you, breaking out of his stupor, "Oh my dearest (y/n), do not fret so. For I am only acquiring our dinner for tonight!"

You look down at what he is holding in his hands. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth. A leg. A human leg. Your eyes then trail to the ground where you see a bloody human body, mangled beyond recognition. "This is.. dinner?"

A large grin appears on Alastor's face, "Quite right! This one should be enough to last us through the week!"

He looks at your face with an almost vicious look to his eyes, awaiting your response anxiously, not that he would let that show, anyways.

All you can manage is "Oh. Okay." Before you walk back inside the house without another word.

It's no exaggeration to say that your brain chemistry was permanently altered from that moment onward.

The situation felt so strange and bizarre, you didn't know what to think. Part of you knew that was he's been doing is extremely horrible and corrupt. It almost made you empty the contents of your stomach, it didn't feel real.

It didn't feel real, but suddenly some of Alastor's behaviors started to make sense. His picky taste for food...He never let you help with cooking, you had chalked it up to him being more of a perfectionist, but now... you know its more than that. He was hiding the fact that he was butchering and preparing human flesh, right in your very home, all this time.

But.. for some reason... all you could think about was how dedicated he was to providing a comfortable life for you, because he truly loved you. Everything he did every day showed you that you mattered and that you deserved only the best.

"But I still love him with all my heart... maybe I'm just as messed up..." Was a sentence your mind kept repeating to itself for quite some time.

Your appetite shrinks after the initial shock for a few days, but you were never one to skip meals or have your appetite be gone completely, even if you were sick. In this instance, you weren't sure if it was a blessing or a curse in this case.

The meals he made for you had never made you sick in the past, so your body was already used to eating his cooking, and he made such amazing food, carefully crafted with such love and attention to detail, you couldn't help but keep eating his delicious cooking, no matter how bizarre and immoral it was.

"I think I really am just as messed up..." The thought crossed your mind again, but thoughts were interrupted by a rare occurrence, a kiss on the cheek from Alastor as he set your plate down in front of you.

The fact that you never stopped eating his cooking and always thanked him for his food and hard work, even after knowing where the main ingredient comes from, solidified the fact that you were the one. You loved him even after seeing him all bloody, holding a dismembered corpse, and telling you it was dinner. It was this pivotal moment that he knew, that you were the one to be his beloved forever.

In the coming weeks, things went back to "normal". You were settling into the new normal, as Alastor didn't hide the meal prep like he used to, and seeing him bloody and bringing in mysterious cuts of meat into the house became a normal sight to you.

One night when you were going to see Mimzy, Alastor informed you that he was unable to escort you that night. You were a little disappointed, but he assured you it was okay for you to go, it was just that he had plans that he wouldn't divulge any information on, no matter how much you pressed him.

Little did you know, but that night, Alastor was out on the town shopping for the perfect ring to propose to you with.

-> Part 6

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octuscle · 2 months ago

Text

Dr. Jekyll

Alexei had been working on this project for weeks. He had been very lucky to be doing a research semester in England when the special military operation began. He took a dim view of any form of war. He was a scientist, not a soldier. But somehow he wanted to play his part in putting the aggressor in his place. As a biochemist, he would not be able to develop weapons. But his plan was to develop a substance that could help increase resistance to injury. And increase the resilience of a wounded body. He was on the verge of a breakthrough. Yesterday he had first inflicted a small cut on himself and then swallowed his substance; today there was no sign of the wound. Not much was missing and he would be able to heal even more complex injuries.

It was already dark. The last colleague had finally said goodbye. Alexei was alone. The last tests with his Laovor rats had been promising. This time he would not inflict a small cut on himself. This time he was going deeper, in the truest sense of the word. To be on the safe side, he had prepared disinfectant and bandages. He took a scalpel and pressed it against his forearm. He had trouble getting the ultra-sharp blade to penetrate his skin at all. There was a short glistening red mark. But it closed again after just a few seconds. No scar, nothing. It had worked! Damn it, it had worked. Alexei was not a person of great emotional reactions… But this, this went right through him. And it went down his pants. In the form of a boner. Fuck yes, his success made him horny. He couldn't help it, he had to jerk off. Here and now in the otherwise sterile laboratory. His otherwise not particularly impressive cock quickly grew to an impressive 20 centimeters. Alexei wanted to enjoy this orgasm, no, he wanted to celebrate it. He wanted…. FUUUUUUUUCK!

There was a huge mess on his lab bench. Test tubes, bacterial cultures, even his lab rats were splattered with an amount of cum that Alexei, as a scientist, would have thought impossible from a human life. And as a scientist, he only needed a few seconds to recover from the orgasm of his life. And he began to clean up the mess. He had amputated a leg from one of his lab rats, one of the first he had experimented with. The wound had closed on its own and quickly, a complete success. But now… Bloody hell! There was no leg missing. And the rat somehow looked… How should we put it…? It was a rat… But a magnificent animal! In a second cage, Alexei saw a rat slurping his cum with its tongue. And here, too, the holes in the gnawed ears closed up and the fur became thicker and shiny. Damn, his cum? A miracle weapon? There was plenty of the stuff left. But Alexei wanted to examine fresh sperm. And yes, he was still or already horny again. He took his cock out of his pants. A long thread of precum shimmered in the lab light. Alexei jerked off, a beaker ready to hand. Even now he didn't have to wait long… He felt it coming and he held the glass to his cock. And again: FUUUUUUUUCK! And another mess. The glass hadn't been able to hold his whole load.

The rat had licked his cum just like that and pure… He wouldn't be able to finish this beaker now. Especially as he wanted to examine a little cum too. But a sip like that…? Alexei was a little disgusted. But it was for science… He had no idea what cum was supposed to taste like. It was kind of interesting, yes… But he had lost a lot of time. He wasn't there yet He began to examine his sperm under the microscope. He didn't know much about human semen. Not his discipline… But this one seemed very agile… Even the one from the first load he had shot. He was getting warm. The lab coat felt tight. He took it off. The T-shirt was also uncomfortable. He was alone, who was going to mind if he worked bare-chested…

Alexei began to work with his cum, fascinated. He chased it through filters and centrifuges, he extracted proteins, he produced new samples. And then he went all out, mixing his previous preparation with a portion of concentrated cum from his last orgasm. No spoon this time. This time a big gulp! Alexei used the scalpel again. First on his forearm. He had considerably more strength than the last time he tried. He managed to make a wound a few millimeters deep. But it healed immediately. It didn't take a second. Alexei started a next attempt. This time not on his arm, but on his free upper body. His chest muscles offered even more resistance than his arms, but here too he managed to produce a briefly bleeding wound. But this also healed in a fraction of a second. Alexei recorded the results in his lab diary. He checked the wound on his forearm again. It was visible. Not as a scar. But in the form of colorful lines. Tattoos were growing on his skin where he had applied the scalpel. And where he had cut his chest, hair was growing!

Shit, it had been over fifteen minutes since he'd jerked off. This time he went to the toilet, massaging the hard-on in his pants. He wouldn't squirt all over the lab bench again. If he was going to make a mess, at least it would be in an easy-to-clean environment. His cock pulsed with anticipation, it took just a few movements of his calloused hands to produce a magnificent hard-on. And it was clear that he was about to squirt all over the walls as well as the toilet bowl. And indeed: BAAAAAANG! He shot off load after load. He tried to catch some of it with his hands in front of the glans. Shit, it got harder with every orgasm. Alexei licked his hands. It tasted so great. Milky pure manhood. He tried to tuck his cock back into his pants. That was harder than he thought. Alexei tried to wipe away some of the mess on the floor with a paper towel. His ass cheeks burst through his pants. And shortly afterwards, the seam on his thighs tore.

Alexei knew that there were a few amateur bodybuilders among the janitors. Maybe he could find something that suited him in their changing rooms. It wasn't really his style to rummage through sacks of dirty clothes. But what could he do? And sure enough, he found a pair of jeans that seemed to fit. A little too wide at the waist. But wide enough on his muscular thighs. He had to do something now. Right: log the latest events in the lab diary. He couldn't remember his cursed password from the notebook. So he took pen and paper.

“And then I'm like jerking my shlong, dude. And then I'm like totally busting a nut. And everything's dripping with my jizz. And I'm licking my fingers, 'cause they're covered in cum. And suddenly, my pants rip, bro. 'Cause, dude, my booty is in absolute competition shape like you wouldn't believe.” What else could he write? For fuck's sake, did this horniness never stop? His tattoos were impressive by now. So was the fur on his chest. Alexei scratched his beard. And shortly afterwards, his sack again. Something was strange here, something was wrong. And he didn't just mean those damn pants, which were too tight around the thighs and too wide at the hips. His crotch was wet from the precum dripping from his mighty boner. He had to get out of here. This air-conditioned air was taking his breath away. As soon as he was out of the lab, he took off his pants. Shit, he was naked, but he was probably alone in the building. There was a locker open in the scientific staff changing room. A racing bike outfit. The matching racing bike was leaning against the wall. Was there someone else here after all? He should have noticed that. He thought for a second about whether he should try putting on the cycling shorts. But they were obviously made for a slim man. And not for a giant 190 cm tall.

Alexei walked down the corridor towards the rooms for the technical staff. He was in the low-security area, where an iris check was enough to open the doors. He arrived in the changing room for the janitors and technicians. Had he been here before today? He couldn't remember… In any case, he found a jockstrap, socks and, above all, a boiler suit in the dirty laundry. It all fitted reasonably well. One of his colleagues also seemed to be in good shape. On the shelf of work boots, he found a pair in size 48 - thank God! The sun was rising, soon the place would be swarming with employees again like an anthill. He didn't want to be naked.

Alex had the feeling he had forgotten something in the lab wing. But he couldn't get back in there. An iris check wouldn't be enough. He needed his ID, which was in the pants he had taken off. He thought as best he could. What could he have forgotten in the lab wing? What would he be doing in the lab wing anyway? Beads of sweat glistened in his chest hair. He smelled under his armpits: sweat and musk. His cock was in someone's jockstrap, surrounded by cum-encrusted pubic hair. If anyone didn't fit into the clean air zones, it was a man like him. And anyway, this biology and chemistry shit wasn't for him. Blocked pipes and maybe a leaky roof: that was his world. But not today. The night shift had been exhausting. Now it was closing time. Maybe to the gym first. But then he was looking forward to a round of wanking and then his bed.

Dedicated to @guytransformedforever; Pics by @ki-kink

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #ai image #white to blue collar tf #smart to dumb #getting dumber

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vivwritescrappythings · 9 months ago

Text

Unfair

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

an au about Joel attending a wedding simply inspired by Pedro's slutty little fit at the SAG awards.

part 2

tw: age gap (late 20s/late 40s), fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, alcohol, she/her pronouns, reader has hair long enough to twist around her finger, Joel is probably poorly written in this, and this whole thing is a little poorly written.

word count: 7.2k

MDNI

masterlist

–

Your mom was smiling as you zipped her into her gown, the chiffon and lace dress gorgeous on her as you fastened the eyelet closed at the top of the bodice. You could feel the lens of the photographer’s camera trained on you both, the woman having been with you the entire morning to document the process of the bridal party getting ready.

The photographer was fluttering around the room, taking candid photos of you all making small talk and toasting mimosas. The posed photos had been earlier that morning, you all wearing your matching silk robes with your names screen-printed on the back. You didn’t know how much had been spent on the whole production–but it certainly wasn’t cheap. But, to see your mom glowing and her wide smile all morning, every penny must have been more than worth it.

Before you realized, you all wore dresses and bouquets of white flowers with magnificent greenery were being thrust in your hands. The wedding planner was ushering everyone out onto the stone walkway to the barn, women finally meeting men just outside the farmhouse turned wedding venue. The best man looked vaguely familiar to you as you placed your hand in the crook of his elbow to walk down the aisle, he must have been Shawn's eldest brother.

The officiant droned: he just repeated the same platitudes of what it means to love one another and be good spouses. You tried to stay focused, your eyes inevitably wandering. The ceremony space was picturesque: southern live oaks casting shadows in the late autumn sun as they married in front of the barn. It really couldn’t get more Texas than that, especially when you counted the number of cowboy hats in the crowd.

You could feel someone staring at you for the better part of the ceremony, making you glance out of the corner of your eye as you tried to find the source. Every fiber of you wanted to turn and look in earnest, but you knew that you’d ruin the photos as soon as your body twisted and your happy, grinning face wasn’t facing the bride and groom on the best day of their lives.

Your grip tightened around the bouquet in your hands as your skin crawled, your focus so jarred that you almost missed your cue to walk out. The cheers and clapping woke you from your reverie before the best man had to. Grasping him by the elbow, you walked back up the aisle between the celebrating wedding guests, the feeling of being watched now fading to the background.

—

When you finally made it to the renovated barn, you were starving and in desperate need of a drink. The photos had run long, the photographers getting you all in a variety of line ups and poses. It was almost time for the plated dinner to begin, guests settling at assigned tables after a cocktail hour and the live band playing quiet music in the corner of the half-inside half-outside space that would eventually serve as the dance floor.

The orange lighting from string lights along the ceiling was soft, mismatched Edison bulbs hanging along zigzagged wires from wooden rafters. It painted the guests and decor in gold tones, making everything look sepia like an old photo.

With your double shot vodka tonic in hand, you found your name written in gold calligraphy on the seating chart. Your mom and her new husband were sitting together at a small table at the front of the room, a faux-neon sign behind them that displayed his last name. Well, their last name now.

You were at one of the front tables, the ivory table cloth nearly brushing the shiny wooden floor as you plucked your name card off your plate and sat down. There were only a few people you knew at the wedding, neighbors from the neighborhood you grew up in and a handful of your mother’s coworkers. But, they were seated elsewhere.

Some of the seats on the opposite side of the sprawling white and green centerpiece were occupied with strangers in flamboyant cowboy hats and boots, an obvious sign they were from out of town. You smiled politely as you sat down, taking a long sip of your drink as you checked your phone for the moment of downtime.

“This seat taken?” A deep, twangy voice made your gaze cut away from the screen and up to the right. You were immediately dumbstruck by how handsome the man was, his umber colored eyes reminding you of the sunlight hitting the tree trunks during the ceremony. A few of his dark brown curls were falling on his tanned forehead, the rest of his hair loosely pushed back.

You floundered for a moment, lips parting and no words coming out of your mouth. Finally you caught up, blinking a few times. The place card in front of the ornate gold and white place setting next to yours was your saving grace. “Well, uh, if you’re Joel M., the seat is all yours,” you said, looking back up at him.

God, you hoped he was Joel.

He smiled, the lines on his face becoming a bit more defined as he extended a hand toward you. “Joel Miller, nice to meet you…” he trailed off, waiting for your assistance.

You slipped your hand into his, his calloused palm engulfing yours as he shook it politely. You introduced yourself, neck craned back so you could look him in the eye. He released your hand and sat down, setting the glass he was holding next to yours on the table cloth.

“So how do you know the couple?” Joel asked you, his gaze dragging over you. You tried not to squirm under the weight of it, your face feeling hot as you set your phone face-down on the table. The way he looked at you made you feel like a bug caught under a microscope.

“The bride is my mom,” you said, fiddling with the elegantly folded cloth napkins for a moment. You glanced at her briefly, watching her giggle at something Shawn had said.

Joel nodded, a huff of a laugh following. “No shit, so you’re the stepdaughter?” he asked, an eyebrow raised as a smirk lifted the corner of his lip. One of your eyebrows lifted of its own volition, his reaction catching you off guard.

“Do I have a reputation?” A sip of your drink helped wet your dry tongue, your eyes trained on him over the rim of your glass. There was a spike of anxiety in your chest, the temporary fear that he’d heard something bad about you filling your mind. You held your glass in your hand as you crossed your legs at the ankle, waiting for his response.

Joel paused to take a drink, a hand scrubbing over his beard as he looked back at you. He shook his head, waving a hand in a way that was meant to be placating. “Shawn told me about you, said you just moved back to town a few months ago.”

“Um, yeah, actually. Moved back from Denver,” you said, bashful that the subject of you even came up. You hadn’t realized that you were important enough in Shawn’s life to mention, especially to his friends. Of course, there wasn’t animosity between the two of you, just what you assumed was limited interest. Most men didn't bother to learn too much about their adult stepchildren.

You were both leaning forward as you spoke, the music and chatter of the other guests making the barn a little too loud to hear one another clearly at a distance. He was looking down at his drink, giving you an opportunity to study his profile. Joel was easily twenty years your senior, the dark beard on his jawline threaded through with patches of silver hair.

“So—“ Joel started, getting cut off by the shuffle of the last people to their seats and an arm thrust between the two of you. The waiters serving the plated dinner made you sit upright in your chair, the soft fabric of your dress fluttering as you put some space between Joel and yourself.

You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you took the first bite of your food, a sigh escaping you as your eyelashes batted against your cheeks. Conversation floated around your head, you caught polite questions about Joel’s construction business and half-assed replies.

For some reason your mother had put you at a table full of Shawn’s friends, maybe in an attempt to help you get to know him better.

“So you’re a contractor?” you asked after your hunger had been satiated. You’d gotten a refill on your drink from one of the waiters, nursing a fresh vodka tonic as you looked at Joel.

He chewed his steak methodically, nodding as he turned slightly to look at you. “Been building houses for years, my brother, Tommy, works with me,” Joel said after he swallowed, taking his cloth napkin off his wide thigh to wipe the corner of his mouth.

“Do you like it?” you asked after a moment of contemplation, tilting your head to one side as you looked at him.

There was something about him that kept you smiling, your lips curved like a bow as you sipped your drink from the straw. You studied his features while you could, his aquiline nose and his full lower lip intriguing. Way too intriguing for someone who was your stepfather’s friend.

“Pays the bills, keeps the roof over me and Sarah’s heads.” Joel finished his plate, picking up his drink and leaning back in his seat.

Sarah? Your eyes dropped to his left hand, not seeing a ring on any of the fingers. Not even a tan line. He noticed it, making your face burn as he chuckled. “Sarah? Your…”

“Daughter,” he cut in helpfully. Daughter, he had a daughter. You exhaled, relieved. But, did he have a wife? No ring, never mentioned her. He would’ve brought her up by now. She would've attended the wedding with him. You chewed the inside of your cheek for a moment, taking a breath as you rationalized.

Your mouth opened to ask another question when glasses were chimed and dinner was cleared away. Champagne flutes were passed around, and to your horror you realized it was time for your toast. You stood in a fluid motion, adjusting your gown and your hair before heading toward the microphone next to the table with the bride and groom.

–

You spent the rest of the night getting drunk. Champagne became cocktails and cocktails became shots–all with your mother and new stepfather and family and friends from your childhood. Tipsiness made you remove your heels, kicking them off to the side to a forgotten corner as your aching feet pressed against the polished floor.

The dance floor was cramped, the band having transitioned partway through the night to someone’s phone with a playlist hooked up to the speakers. You watched your mom laugh as she was spun around by her new husband, making you smile as you nursed your glass of wine.

“You lost something.” Joel approached, pointing to your strappy heels with a lazy finger.

You grinned, your teeth digging into your lower lip for a moment as you looked up at him. “Looks like you did, too–a few things actually,” you said, nodding toward his shucked suit jacket and tie. The top few buttons of his white shirt were open, revealing just enough of his tanned chest to feel dangerous. He was more disheveled than before, a chilled beer bottle held loosely in his fingers and his cheeks flushed.

Joel chuckled, taking a step closer to you as he took a long drink from his beer. You watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, taking a sip of your red wine in tandem.

There was something about this man that had you all kinds of flustered, a giddy lightness in your chest when he focused his attention on you. “So why aren’t you out there dancing?” Joel asked, his warm eyes surveying the dance floor before returning.

You shook your head, a demure smile and a shrug. “Never was much of a dancer.” The last time you really danced was wasted at a frat party in college, the lights low and the music making the house shake. Far from a respectable barn wedding, and definitely not your mother’s respectable barn wedding.

“That’s a shame,” Joel smiled at you, pressing just a bit closer, “a pretty girl like you should be out there.”

You were surprised by the compliment, nearly choking on your wine as your eyebrows lifted. Joel was smirking, his whole body leaning toward yours. You were warm to the touch, your entire face burning under his attentions. It felt like you were in high school again, pining after some older boy that you assumed would never look at you twice–but here he was, looking.

“Do you always flirt with your friend’s stepdaughters?” you asked, hoping to come off as hard to get. Realistically, he already had you in the palm of his hand.

Joel pursed his lips, something mischievous flashing in his dark eyes for a moment. “Just the ones that look like you,” he said, his deep voice low. It was almost too quiet to hear over the music, making you shift forward so you could hear him better.

“Joel.” It would've been chastising if it wasn’t for your bright smile. He exuded an easy confidence that was magnetic, it had your nerves on fire as you selfishly hoped that he would do more than just flirt with you. Your gaze was on his lips for a moment, taking in the lines of his full bottom lip and tidy mustache before meeting his eyes again.

“The couple is getting ready to leave!” You both looked toward the door and watched the wedding planner usher guests out the barn doors. Sparklers were thrust in everyone’s hands, the photographer already positioned at the end of the walkway near the rented white Rolls Royce.

Joel’s hand found the small of your back, warm through the thin fabric of your dress as he guided you toward the door. The wedding planner handed him two sparklers, the long kind that wobbled under their own weight.

The guests had divided into two lines, waiters lighting sparklers on either side of the column created. Joel handed you one as you stood at his side, your bare feet on the warm concrete. You held it out from your body, focused on the bright sizzle of the sparks as they made their way down the lines of powder.

Your mother and Shawn walked through the column of sparklers on cue, laughing and smiling while holding hands. They looked so happy. You could hardly imagine being that happy with someone.

She broke off for a moment to embrace you, making Joel thoughtfully pluck the sparkler out of your fingers so you didn’t burn her.

Tears pushed at your eyelids, overwhelming joy for your mother finally breaking free of your chest. You whispered ‘I love you’s into one another’s ears and pressed kisses to cheeks as you clung to each other. The photographer’s camera was shuttering nearby, catching every intimate moment.

Finally you let her go, tearful and smiling as Shawn pulled her toward the car that would take them to their hotel. Joel’s large hand found the curve of your waist, bringing you to his side as you watched your mother get into the car.

You were tipsy enough to allow it.

He was warm, smelling like cigar smoke and whiskey and cologne. You both were quiet as you watched the car pull away, your shoulders fitting in the space between his arm and torso.

“You wanna help me find my jacket? Think I left it around back when I was smoking a cigar with Shawn,” Joel murmured into your hair. His fingers pressed into your waist, his breath on your neck.

It was enough to distract you. You blinked your tears away, fingertips brushing at the corners of your eyes to make sure your makeup was still intact. “Sure,” you whispered, looking up at him after you’d composed yourself.

Your heart skipped a beat when Joel took your hand, tugging you along with him down the path on the outside of the barn. Both of you were tipsy, giggling and stumbling a bit over the paving stones that had been set in the tall grass. The lights faded behind you, the dim glow through the high windows of the barn and the solitary strand of Edison bulbs between the trees just enough to navigate by.

It all happened so fast, you didn’t even know who initiated it. Joel’s calloused hands were cupping your cheeks and jaw, tilting your head up as your lips met his. He tasted like whiskey and the sweet wedding cake, making you sigh into the kiss as your fingers twisted in his shirt and pulled him close.

You had to stand on your tip toes to kiss him properly, a few soft laughs escaping the both of you when the hard cartilage of your noses bumped and teeth clashed.

He took steps forward until your shoulder blades pressed against the side of the barn. Joel crowded you in, one hand leaving your cheek to brace against the wood behind your waist as he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip. You could feel him smiling.

You always found French kissing to be weird, never knowing quite what to do with your tongue. Whenever a guy had initiated it you managed to cut it off quickly, moving on to some other method of making out to spare yourself the embarrassment of letting your tongue sit there like a dead fish.

Of course you’d seen people do it, always seeming like a lot more licking each other than kissing. Nevertheless, the second time Joel ran his tongue along the seam of your lips you found yourself parting them for him.

Suddenly, you understood. Joel’s tongue massaged over yours as he groaned softly. You wanted him to consume you, letting him take control as he explored your mouth. He tilted your head back more, leaning over you with his full height. You flicked your tongue along his, spine arching toward him in an attempt to get closer.

The horn of the hotel shuttle startled you as you broke apart, chests heaving and your lipstick smeared onto Joel’s mouth.

“You staying at the same hotel as everyone else?” Joel asked, nosing at your hairline as his hands roamed over your dress. He bunched it in his fists, raising the hem above your calves and wrinkling the fabric.

“I am,” you breathed, twisting your fingers in his thick curls.

Joel smiled against your earlobe, nipping at it. “Wanna continue this in my room? Got a king size bed and everything,” he drawled, pulling back to look down at you. There was a sparkle in his eyes, his smile was breathtaking.

You wiped your lipstick off his bottom lip with your thumb, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “You sure?” you asked, folding your arms over your chest in a form of protection from Joel’s possible rejection.

He offered, but there was still a part of you that was worried.

He furrowed his brow, a smile still on his face as he looked down at you in the dark. “'Course I’m sure. Go get your shoes, baby, and I’ll see you on the shuttle.” Joel spun you toward the nearest door to the barn, lightly smacking your ass go get you moving.

You yelped, swatting at his hand with a glare.

“Go on, before I ruin that pretty dress of yours in the dirt out here,” he told you, a smirk on his face as he nodded his chin toward the door. You rolled your eyes, acquiescing to his instructions.

—

It took Joel no time to get you down the hall from the packed elevator and to his room. He clumsily tapped his keycard against the sensor, stamping kisses along the side of your neck as you giggled in the cage of his arms.

Finally he got it to unlock, tightening an arm around your waist as he pushed the door open. Joel took wide, staggered steps on either side of your body as he ushered you inside.

As soon as the door snapped shut he was already lifting the bottom of your dress, kisses turning into bites on the curve of your neck. “Jo-el,” you whined through giggles as you grabbed the forearm he’d locked around your waist.

“Unfair that you’re this fucking pretty,” he mumbled, making your face heat up as you tried to protest. Joel shushed you by grabbing a handful of the meat of your thigh, groaning in your ear.

“How’s it unfair?” you managed to ask, your head spinning from the overwhelming presence of Joel. His rough, calloused hands were groping at your soft flesh, his lips sucking marks on your neck like you were teenagers.

The room was relatively untouched, his open suitcase on the stand near the large windows on the far side of the room. The curtains were slightly open, moonlight filtering in. “S’unfair that I didn’t meet you sooner,” Joel said, scraping his blunt teeth over the sensitive spot just under your earlobe. You shivered in his arms.

He separated from you just enough to shuck his suit jacket that he had haphazardly put on for the shuttle, tossing it on the little sofa in the room. You turned after stepping out of your heels, linking your hands behind Joel’s neck and pulling him in for another kiss.

Joel smiled into it, his hands grabbing your waist and holding you flush against his body. “You still wanna do this?” His fingers moved to your spine and played with the zipper on the back of your dress, looking down at you as he waited for your answer. "Don't want you to feel pressured or anything."

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be,” you murmured, carding your fingers in his thick curls.

Joel just groaned, pressing you flush against him as he captured you in another needy kiss. He pulled the zipper of your dress down in one fluid motion, making a shiver prickle up the length of your spine.

“Let me see ya, baby,” he said against your mouth, pulling the thick straps of your dress down your arms.

You let the fabric pool at your feet, your sheer, skin-colored bra and panties leaving little to the imagination. A wave of insecurity flashed over you, your skin suddenly feeling stretched too tight over your body as your face and neck heated up.

You were too aware of the parts of yourself that you didn’t like: the dimpled flesh on the outside of your thighs and the hairs you hadn’t plucked away because the wedding was the last place you thought you’d find a one night stand. A wobbly smile formed, your instinct making you bury your face in Joel’s neck to hide.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear his praise. His massive hands ran down your sides, thumbing at the mesh of your bra and panties before he started moving you backwards.

Your calves hit the bed, making you squawk in an unflattering way as Joel lowered you to the mattress. “You’re so gorgeous,” he breathed, his lips trailing down your neck until he was kissing and sucking at your sternum. He nudged your knees apart with his free hand, his other forearm planted on the mattress to hold his weight off of you. He slotted himself in the space between your thighs as his tongue laved over your nipple through the mesh fabric of your bra.

The noise that came out of your throat was embarrassing. Your breath turned into a strangled moan, eyebrows pinching together. The sensation only made your arousal increase tenfold, spine already arching to press your tit against his mouth.

Joel chuckled, soft brown eyes ticking up to look at your face. “That sensitive?” he said, more of a statement than a question. You found yourself nodding anyway. He thumbed at your other nipple, making it bud against the thin fabric and pulling another whine from your throat. He snickered.

“Don’t tease,” you huffed, wiggling your hips and lightly squeezing his sides with your knees.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Joel muttered, a smile stretching on his lips as he rolled the pad of his thumb over your nipple again. He placed kisses along your stomach, making you suck in the soft flesh on reflex. His coarse facial hair tickled your skin, making you giggle a bit as he continued to work his way down your form.

“Just wanna taste ya, okay?” Joel asked, his broad shoulders between your spread thighs. His thick fingers hooked into your panties, manipulating your legs so he could pull them off and toss them somewhere in the room. He pressed your legs apart before you could snap them shut, a seed of worry taking root in your mind as you looked down at him.

You’d never been so self-conscious during a hook-up before, but for some reason Joel felt different. Your thoughts were preoccupied on how you looked from his vantage point, if you smelled alright and if anything looked weird.

“Been wanting to taste you all night, ever since I saw you standing up there during that damn ceremony.”

He spread you apart with his thumbs, eyes focused on your already wet pussy as a smirk stretched across his features. He just stared, making you want to crawl back into yourself. Then the feeling of his tongue on your clit makes you forget your worries, your face scrunching as you moaned. Joel hooked your leg over his shoulder, your heel pressing against his back as he pushed your thighs even further apart.

You couldn’t remember a time when you’d been so soaked before, sticky arousal practically gushing out of you. Joel’s wide tongue licked long stripes up your cunt, careful to practically gulp down everything that he could. He was groaning as he ate you out, his big hands digging into your waist to pull you closer. The coarse hair of his beard was rough against the soft skin of your inner thighs

“Oh–oh god, Joel,” you sighed, propping yourself up on an elbow so you could look at him.

Your thighs were quaking, pressing against his ears as your hips twitched. Joel’s dark eyes were hazy and half lidded as he lapped over your clit, working with a focus you’d never experienced with any other man. He looked beautiful between your legs, belly-down on the mattress and still dressed in his button down shirt and slacks.

One of his hands left your hip, snaking up your stomach to reach blindly until he cupped your breast. He pulled at the cup of your bra, revealing your peaked nipple. The bud was immediately pinched between his thumb and forefinger, making you arch your back as you let out another whine of his name.

Joel dipped down to shove his searing tongue inside of you as his nose bumped into the swollen bead of your clit. A bolt of lightning ricocheted up your spine, a gasp leaving you. It felt so good you could almost cry, your chest heaving and hips clumsily grinding toward his mouth. You were already starting to tremble, pleasure sparking in the pit of your stomach as he mouthed at you.

And then he pulled back.

“Joel!” you yelped, starting to sit up as your gaze hardened into a glare. Your pussy clenched around nothing, neglected and empty with an interrupted orgasm.

He huffed a laugh, looking down at you as he knelt on the bed in front of you. “You’re right, baby, that’s my name,” he teased, his voice deep and smokey.

He grabbed you roughly by the hips, pulling so you fell to your back again. “You fucker–” Joel cut you off by pressing the backs of your knees until you were bent in half, a brief show of just how strong he was. His calloused hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, readjusting you again so the small of your back was propped up against his quads. You’d never been in this angle before, your pussy the highest point of your body as he pushed his forearms against your thighs to keep you still.

Joel’s hot breath washed over your cunt before he delved back into it, greedy as he started sucking on your clit. With the way you were contorted, you were completely helpless, any attempt to move your hips just made your thighs push uselessly against his arms. You were soaking, your arousal dripping down to your asshole as you whimpered pathetically.

He went at a leisurely pace, taking his time to tongue at you and lick long stripes from your perineum to your clit. Your hands were clenching in the white comforter on the hotel bed, your chest heaving. There was something about being completely at his mercy that made your head spin.

You wanted to be greedy, take everything he would give you; but, Joel was in no rush, languidly pressing his face into your pussy despite your best efforts to get him to speed up.

It was overwhelming in all the right ways, your head spinning as you watched Joel lick at you like he wanted to consume every part of you. Joel cupped your breast in a hand, strumming his thumb lightly over your nipple to keep it stimulated as you gasped.

You were delirious by the time he sunk two fingers into you, almost making you scream. Joel took a few breaths, his pink lips swollen and shiny with your arousal as he studied your expression. You could hardly think straight, strings of curses mixed with his name falling from your lips as you panted like a bitch in heat.

The squelching sound of his fingers lazily pumping into your pussy filled the hotel room, loud enough to make your cheeks burn. You wetted your lips, trying to catch your breath beneath Joel.

“So fucking tight around my fingers,” Joel mumbled, the words muffled and wet because he didn’t pull away. It didn’t even feel like he was talking to you, communing with your pussy instead. The praise went directly to your head, making you tighten around his fingers. You threaded a hand in his hair, keeping his mouth pressed against you. “Tastes just as good as I expected.”

“Oh… oh my god,” you breathed, your climax building toward its precipice.

Joel wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, just barely speeding up the rhythm of his fingers fucking into you. His thumb on your nipple followed suit, matching the motion as tears filled your eyes. Your fingers threaded into his curls, your brows furrowed as you pulled on his hair. He grunted against you, not letting up as he worked you up toward the edge.

When you came it was a whole body event. Your legs trembled, hips burning from the awkward angle Joel had bent you into. Your back arched, breath pausing in your chest. Your cunt clenched around his fingers, sucked tight and feeling every inch of them inside you. The pleasure was white-hot as it coursed through you, leaving your nerves buzzing and your ears ringing as your body went limp.

“So pretty when you come,” Joel said, his thick fingers still deep inside you.

You were almost nonverbal, your response a delirious sob as you looked up at Joel with watery eyes. He caressed your cheek, gently stroking your jaw and thumb wiping over your lower lip. You kissed the pad of it out of reflex, the motion making his expression soften for a moment.

Then he started to massage the spongy spot inside of your dripping pussy, making your eyes roll back. “Too sensitive,” you whined, grabbing onto his forearm in a weak attempt to stop him.

“Trust me, baby, I’ve got you,” he said in that syrupy tone, gaze still locked on your face as you squirmed. He took his hand away from your cheek, holding one of your legs to keep you still as he fucked his fingers into you. “You can do one more for me, right?”

The need to please him made you nod, taking in a deep and shaky breath. You couldn’t do anything but take it, your mouth dropping open and your back arching. The overstimulation made you tremble, your whole body squirming. Breaths kept huffing out of you, your brows pinched tight as you tried to relax. It was hard to think straight, hell, it was hard to even breathe.

Joel pulled his fingers out of you for a moment to strum over your swollen clit, only touching you with just enough pressure to drive you crazy. He continued until you were straining against him, moaning and sobbing his name. It was like he was carved from stone, hardly giving you any leeway as he kept you in place. The pressure in you built faster this time, it was almost embarrassing how quick he was able to get you to the edge.

“Joel, Joel, Joel–ohmygod,” you gasped, reaching for purchase against his thigh. His dress pants were soft under your fingers as you squeezed, your body practically vibrating.

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmured soothingly, pressing a wet kiss to the back of your thigh as his fingers hooked back into you.

Joel fucked you on them at a ruthless pace as his thumb rolled over the crest of your sex, your mouth opening in a wordless cry as you fell into your second orgasm of the night. You were completely lost, your eyes squeezed shut as your muscles spasmed against the restraint of Joel’s arms. White noise filled your mind, your body melting against Joel’s thighs and the bed as your legs fell open even further.

He rubbed along the seam of your cunt soothingly, calloused fingers working you through the aftershocks. Your eyes were completely hazed when you looked up at him, splayed on the bed like every bone had been pulled from your body. He looked positively giddy, his wet fingers smearing on your thigh as he rubbed your legs in an effort to help you come back to yourself.

Joel let you off of him, returning your spine to the mattress as he leaned over you to give you a kiss. You hummed into it, smelling and tasting your salty-sweet slick on his lips and facial hair. “Please fuck me,” you begged between presses of his mouth, desperation easy to hear in your tone.

“‘Course I will, baby,” he said, getting off the bed to quickly undress himself. You shakily sat up, unclipping your bra at your back and tossing it aside.

Joel was impressive, his body rippled with muscles beneath a layer of fat that told you he was eating well. Your gaze dragged down him, mouth watering as you finally saw his cock. It was big, the same tanned tone of his skin with a flushed tip. It jutted from a patch of trimmed, dark hair that was accentuated by the happy trail beneath his navel. You swallowed thickly, pussy clenching at the thought of him fucking you into the mattress.

You kissed him eagerly as he got back on the bed, part of you so desperate to please him. Joel was older than you, so much more experienced, you just wanted him to like you.

He grunted, curling a hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. His other hand traveled down your body, massaging your hip with his thumb. You were putty in his hands, your own arms in a loop around his neck.

“Lay down,” Joel mumbled against the hinge of your jaw, nipping at the bone. You whimpered, fingers digging into the broad muscle of his shoulders as you complied. Joel ran a hand over you, sliding it down the valley between your breasts and over your soft stomach.

The backs of your thighs were pressed against his quads as he took himself in his hand, sliding the blunt head of his cock along your pussy. You clenched around nothing, desperate and wanting. “Joel, please.”

You couldn’t take waiting anymore.

He smirked, notching himself at your entrance and obliging you. Joel pressed and pressed and pressed until his hips were completely snug against yours. He split you in half across the width of his cock, moving slow to give you some time to adjust. It felt like he’d consumed all of the extra space in your body, you even felt him in your throat.

You breathed brokenly, back arched and hips twitching as you struggled to find a comfortable position. You weren’t a virgin–weren’t anything close to it, really–but it felt just as overwhelming as your first time.

Joel bent over you, his elbows on either side of your head carrying his weight as he ground his hips against yours. His forehead pressed into your shoulder, a heated groan rumbling from his chest. It was hard to make sense of things, rattled breaths filling your chest as your mind whirred uselessly. He peppered kisses over your face, his lips wet and warm as he showered you in affection.

Then he moved his hips, the roll of them slow and syrupy and making you nearly choke. You grabbed at his biceps, an attempt to anchor yourself to him as he started to rut his hips into yours. He made room for himself with every press of his cock, molding you to the shape of him.

Joel collected your leg with a rough hand, pushing your knee toward your chest. He let it come to rest in the curve of his elbow, palm pressed flat to the comforter as he spread you open wider. Your hips protested as he splayed you apart, the discomfort easily taking a backseat to your pleasure.

You keened, mouth falling open as he sank even deeper inside of you. Your breaths came out in little mewls, matching Joel’s grunts as you met each thrust with a weak roll of your hips. His lips were at your throat, sucking more marks into the skin and his facial hair scratching against you. “Goddamn, you’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” Joel groaned into the curve of your neck, still keeping an even rhythm

You let out a breathy laugh–you felt the same way about him. He lifted himself to get a better look at you, dark brown eyes as warm as the summer sun as his gaze drifted all the way down to where his cock was buried in you. He grunted at the sight, pupils dilating like drops of ink in water.

His free hand lifted off its elbow, his weight shifting to one side so he could wet the pad of his thumb with a lick of his tongue. You were making sounds you couldn’t control, each thrust pushing a small gasp from your throat. Then, Joel dropped his hand to your lower abdomen, gently tracing the curve of your belly down into the soft thatch of hair you hadn’t bothered to shave.

A calloused thumb found your clit, swirling over it with a confident pressure in a way that made your eyes nearly roll back in your skull. Joel was pounding into the spot that made you see stars, merciless in his pace. “Joel… oh god…”

You could feel the flutter of your orgasm starting, your legs trembled against his arm and the curve of his waist. You chanted his name like a prayer, overstimulated tears starting to squeeze out of the corners of your eyes and roll into your hairline. He just soldiered on, grinding his thumb over your clit as he worked you higher and higher toward the edge.

A rattling gasp escaped your throat as you pulsed around Joel, your brows pinching and your body stiffening beneath his. You could feel the release from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head, your nails digging into his thick biceps as the flickering pleasure turned into a full on forest fire. You leaned up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down onto the mattress with you as you held him close.

“Fuck,” Joel moaned into your neck. His thrusts became sloppy fast, his discipline gone to the wayside now that he made you come on his cock. You felt him twitch inside you, his breath coming out in hot huffs against the curve of your shoulder. His hand grabbed your hip, pulling you down to match his frantic thrusts as he moaned your name into your skin.

You wanted to pull his head away from you so you could see how his face looked when he finished. The muscles in his abdomen clenched, his hips grinding tight to yours as he came inside of you. You moaned with him, the feeling of being filled up by him satiating a need you didn’t know you had as you dragged your blunt nails on his scalp.

Joel finally collapsed, the weight of his body pressing down on you as you combed your fingers through his hair. His hips were cradled by your legs, sweat slicking your skin wherever it was pressed together. You breathed against one another, pulling each other close as you basked in the afterglow.

You were sharing the same air, pressing loose kisses to each other's warm skin as you melted into each other for an unknown amount of time. It could have been seconds, it could have been hours.

“We should clean up,” you finally breathed, able to come back to yourself.

Joel nodded against your neck, you felt it more than you saw it. You giggled after he didn’t move, still leaving you helpless and pinned beneath him. He seemed to make himself even more comfortable, arms constricting around you and face nuzzling closer to your throat.

“Joel,” you chastised, lightly shoving at his shoulder. It was half-hearted and meaningless–you were more than content to stay here all night if you had to.

“I like how you say that, Joel,” he said, mimicking your voice in an annoyingly high-pitched tone. It made you laugh, throwing your head back against the comforter as you shook it.

He hissed, pulling away from you just enough to prop himself up on an elbow. “You clench around me like a fucking vise when you laugh like that, baby,” Joel muttered, swirling his fingertips over your skin. He didn’t move to pull out of you quite yet, the two of you relishing in the intimacy of your embrace.

A slow smirk crossed his face, his dark eyes flickering back up to meet yours. “Plus, what’s the point of cleaning up if I’m not done with you yet?”

–

Needless to say, you were sneaking out of his room when the dregs of sunlight started streaming through the hotel room windows, sore and exhausted, with his phone number typed into your phone and his hickeys all over your skin.

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #the last of us #reader insert #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au #tlou hbo #pedro pascal sag awards #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x fem!reader

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muddyorbsblr · 6 months ago

Text

come on, england

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: about a year after 'a sizing mishap'

Summary: When the video director for Tom's promo seems uncomfortable with articulating the vision that was instructed of him, you step in to help things along

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: a tiny bit of dirty talk; little to no plot in this i just wrote it for the thirst [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: we're in a new era (reveal at the end author notes)

This feels familiar, you thought to yourself, watching Tom walk in front of the camera, wearing a white and blue jersey with the number 6 in the middle. He looked to the side of the camera, his eyes meeting yours for a fraction of a moment, before putting on his game face and returning his focus to the lens, looking like he was about to give a pep talk.

"Come on, England!" he exclaimed, with an enthusiasm that felt better suited for a stage performing Shakespeare. Fitting, considering how the target audience were to be sports enthusiasts that Soccer Aid wanted to attract and fill seats next Sunday.

The man behind the camera threw up his hand, scratching the back of his head as he shouted, "Cut!" It was obvious that while he had done a magnificent job, as always, this didn't quite fit with the vision they had in mind. "That was…great, Tom. Really it was. But maybe we could go again but this time a bit more…encouraging?"

"You mean like louder, yeah?"

"No actually maybe a bit…softer?"

Despite his efforts to keep his expression unchanging, you could see the questions swirling in Tom's oceanic eyes. You'd known him far too long that those minute changes no longer got past you. And long enough that you could wager a guess that the questions popping up in his head were the same as yours.

If they want encouraging, then that last take should have done it. It's the tone the sports fans respond to. It's their catnip.

But as soon as the director said, "Maybe like…soothing?", the real vision clicked into place. The target audience for this promotional video wasn't the sports fans at all.

"You mean seductive?" you spoke up from your seat, shifting your posture to cross your leg over the other and resting your arms on your knee. "Enticing?"

"That's--preposterous I would never--"

"Come on, you and I both know who you have in front of the camera. And the type of crowd you want filling in the rest of the seats of that stadium, it's okay. But see, he's not gonna give you the performance you see in your head if you keep trying to dance around the words," you explained, motioning toward both of them. "You want him to play it sexy, just say the words."

"I can't it feels weird, ma'am," he finally blurted out. "These were just the instructions relayed to me, that the feel should be--"

"Tantalizing," you finished for him, trying to hold back a chuckle at how his face reddened as he nodded. You stood up, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your navy blue jumpsuit. "Alright then, show me how to operate the camera."

You walked over to look at the instructions that he referred to, your skin prickling at the scrawled words of 'Make sure he doesn't show his left hand'.

'Bedroom voice pls', another one said in bright sky blue ink.

"I know that look, sweetheart," Tom spoke up. "Are you alright?"

You made your way to him, your shoulders immediately relaxing when he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you to him as he pressed his lips to your forehead. "Nothing we haven't dealt with before," you answered him, taking a deep breath and smiling at the comfort you felt from his signature citrusy leathery scent. "Now for this take…how about we try you walking into the shot? And then you stare the camera down while you say the line? Forget encouraging and just…"

Identical wide smiles stretched across your faces as you whispered a scenario to him that you believed could get his voice to where the organizers' vision wanted it to be. He slid his hand down the side of your body, giving you a playful little tap on the ass right as you walked back toward the camera.

The video director showed you how to start rolling on the camera then stepped aside to let you run the shot. "Ready, sweetie?"

He threw you a look that had you fighting not to squirm where you stood, answering you in that gravelly tone you were intimately familiar with. "For you, goddess? Always."

You positioned yourself squarely behind the camera, throwing up your hand to count him down to his cue. 3…2…1…Go.

Tom walked into the shot, his eyes meeting yours behind the camera. He took a breath, adjusting his stance to have his feet shoulder-width apart and placing his hands on his hips. His eyes roamed your features with the slightest whisper of the hunger and mischief that you were accustomed to when you were within the privacy of your home. And then he spoke, his voice low and raspy that it immediately brought your thoughts to that scenario you whispered in his ear minutes before.

Imagine that it's just you and me, sneaking in a quickie on the day bed in our study and failing because you're talking me into just one more round. Talking me into making more of a mess on you so we end up in the shower. Or the bathtub.

"Come on, England," he said softly, squinting his eyes at the lens. At you. And then he pursed his lips, fighting back the smile that threatened to follow through once he clocked how your eyes had glazed over, knowing exactly where your mind had wandered.

"Cut!" the video director's voice rang through the little studio, audibly more excited over the take compared to the last. "That was perfect, Tom. I think we got everything we need for your video." He rushed over to you, holding his hand out for you to shake. "You're phenomenal."

"That she is," Tom chirped up, taking his place by your side and settling his hand comfortably on your waist. "Always a blessing whenever we find ourselves able to work together."

"Have you ever thought of directing, Miss H? I'd be more than happy to share the co-directing credit on this with--"

"Ohh absolutely not," you cut him off, laughing the suggestion away. "Too much responsibility. Always happy to assist but I don't think I'll ever want that workload on my shoulders no matter what the scope or scale. I'm more than happy letting you sign this video off as fully yours. And those higher ups that left you those instructions would probably be very happy with you, too."

You saw how Tom craned his head to see the instructions that had been left for the video director, his hand tensing for a moment before his thumb stroked at your side, the motion soothing both of you.

"I'll let them know though that it wouldn't have been possible without your input, at least. Do you prefer Y/N H. or just Miss H?"

Oh I'm sure they'll love that, you thought to yourself, already imagining the bitter sneers this poor guy was about to witness. "You know what, just tell them Mrs. Hiddleston says 'you're welcome'."

A/N: Okay so we have 2 welcomes in this chapter…First welcome back to the Soccer Aid Collection. Apparently we're gonna have 2024 chapters added because I couldn't help myself so this thirst piece happened, and the chaos is probably gonna go down where I'm writing for both 2023 Soccer Aid and 2024 Soccer Aid at the same time because I am just…slow…lol

But anyways…welcome to the married era 😳🥹 I honestly have so much planned to get these blorbos to where they are right now, and I had a different chapter in mind to reveal to y'all that this is what we're working towards, but things happen, plans change…Tomathy walks out in that jersey with the long hair, gets me struggling not to say the d-word, and effectively derails those plans in the best way possible 😅🫡

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston imagine #one look & they'll know #muddyorbs writes

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junedenim · 2 months ago

Text

library pictures

because it lasts longer

warnings: smut, oral (m & f), piv, nudes, etc.

word count: 5.2k

He's lost in you. Your body stretches out, lanky in form and tall—taller than him, which he supposes isn't saying much. You possess a certain quality that he hasn't seen before. Sure, there's beauty, that's undeniable. He's worked with a lot of beautiful models. Ones that have won the genetic lottery. But you have more than that.

There's little competition for your looks but the way you move, the way you gaze upon the camera, the way you made Jerry, the old bastard, laugh before you stepped in front of Alex's camera. He's never seen anyone do just that and he's worked with a lot of beautiful women.

Your hand skims up your body, sultry in action. Every way you move feels sultry like you're seducing the camera. The other girls beside you try, pushing their breasts forward to the camera showing the sexiness of the bras all the models are wearing but you lightly touch your shoulder and it's the hottest thing he's ever seen.

Alex tries his best to stick to the task at hand, looking at you through his camera's viewfinder, but it's so easy to get lost in your bent knee, so accidentally but so intentionally. Every move you make feels careless and calculated at the same time like you're trying to get a rise out of him, out of every man in the room. Singing chants to the people who see this ad, imploring them: you want to buy this lingerie because it's the closest thing you'll have of me. Alex feels he is slightly losing it but he doesn't mind it. It's so easy to take intense pleasure in this sight.

"Should we do solo shots?" Alex suggests. It wasn't in the instructions for the campaign. They wanted a group shot of all the girls in the colour variety of their lingerie sets. But Alex knows they got the shot 20 frames ago so he might as well indulge a little if they still have 45 minutes remaining.

His assistant shrugs, not that he has any say. Everyone else looks toward Alex for the decision, asserting him as the boss of the set. "You," he points, "in the white."

You point a finger at yourself just to be sure.

"Yeah. Why don't you go first?" The other girls scatter to the sidelines and you slowly move to the center mark. You're not even posing, just waiting for him to lift his camera back up, and you already look magnificent, foot beveled to the side, hands behind your back.

He looks on, not even raising the camera, just staring at the sight before him. You quirk a smile. "Take a picture. It'll last longer." You giggle at your own joke, tugging his heart down and making him fall further.

Alex does as you tell him, snapping away. You're loose and in action. He swears every frame is usable and he's never had that happen before and it'll probably never happen again. He doesn't want to move on. He wants to get every angle he can. Wants to see every inch. Feel every inch. Memorize every inch.

He doesn't want to move on but you've already hogged a decent portion of the shoot so when Jerry nudges him that they should move on, Alex nods and just says, "Who's next?"

But you don't leave. You wrap yourself in a silk robe that probably feels as soft as your skin. You sit on the sidelines, right in his periphery, impossible to ignore. He takes a picture of it and claims it to be a test shot as if he hasn't been shooting with this camera on this set for nearly an hour now.

He runs through the rest of the girls quickly with little care and little notice. He watches you as you watch the whole photoshoot. The other girls are talking or on their phones, but you're observing, which leads to your eyes eventually landing on his. You send a coy smile his way, leaning back in your chair. He attempts to hold himself in by sending a friendly smile back.

When it's a wrap, everyone moves to change and Alex works to put his equipment away. Your eyes linger on one another as if some unspoken agreement is being made. Alex packs up pretty quickly, his assistant will handle the rest so he has a goodbye to his team and heads outside.

He's thankful smoking gives him an excuse to linger outside the building, up against the brick wall as toothpick-thin models pour out of the building. He waits, taps his foot on the asphalt parking lot, and waits some more.

And then you come out in big Jackie O. sunglasses and a trench coat, already smoking a cigarette. "Join ya?" You request, your leather loathers skimming the pebbles on the ground.

"Please," Alex invites. You walk closer, standing in front of him at the wall. Your hip juts out and he wants to reach out and feel the curve of you. He's not being secretive in his stare. He knows that you know he's looking. "You're good," he compliments. He's not sure if it's for your modeling skills or your role as seductress, despite being all wrapped up now, he's still turned on just by your aura.

You flick your cigarette and tilt your head slightly. "At modeling? No, no, I'm still kind of new to this whole thing."

Alex exhales. "Could've fooled me. You had everyone's eyes in that studio."

You raise an eyebrow. "Including yours?"

Alex softly chuckles, mildly mortified. "I guess I wasn't too covert in my stare."

You grin, shaking your head. "I don't mind though. You're the photographer. You are the eye of the beholder. It's very complimentary to a model."

Gradually, you two have moved closer to one another. Your shoe hits his shoe and it's impossible it isn't intentional. "You said you're new to modeling?"

"Relatively," you answer.

"You could come back to my home studio, I'll take a few photos of you that you can add to your portfolio. If you want," Alex offers. His eyes are clearly telling a different story as he looks at you from top to bottom salaciously.

You nod slowly, a sly smirk spreading across your face. "Okay."

He drops his cigarette and plucks yours from between your fingers, joining his on the ground.

You wait behind him as he unlocks the front door. His place is bare just like you had imagined. There's little in the kitchen and he doesn't own a television. He has a shelf of books but it looks covered in dust. He guides you, up a small set of stairs and past his bedroom to his home studio.

Compared to the rest, it's a mess. There are various sets of lights pushed to the side of the room. He desperately needs more shelf space as his cameras and lenses overtake the room. There's a small grey backdrop, but it's been partially rolled up. He has a makeshift darkroom to the side, which seems to have been designed to be the guest bathroom, but his stuff has overtaken it.

Alex seems to go right to work as he picks up a camera and instructs you, "You can put your stuff over there," pointing to a small chair in the corner of the room. You place your bag down and throw your coat over the back of the chair.

"Is what I'm wearing fine?" You ask, dressed in a black long sleeve and jeans. You feel nervous under his gaze, it's become more critical as he holds a camera in his hands than it was outside.

But he smirks and nods. "For now." He directs you again, pointing over to the messed-up grey backdrop, "Stand over there."

He fiddles with the camera and you realize it's film compared to the digital you used for the ad campaign. "Do you usually shoot in film?" You ask.

Alex chuckles, amused for some reason. "Suppose I'm pretentious in that way. I like the idea of having no idea what you're taking until you develop it otherwise we'd be here all day with how overcritical I get." He runs a hand through his hair and he seems stressed by even the idea of shooting digitally.

"You seemed fine back at the studio," you tell him.

"I had a good model." The compliment gets you smiling and he snaps a picture before you're even ready for it. "You're a natural, you know."

You shrug. "I've never had any work done."

He throws his head back in laughter. "You know how fucking cute you are?" He snaps another photo. "I feel like I could stand here all day and I'd never catch a bad shot. The way you move your body is like art. Like I'm watching Venus de Milo in action."

"Does that mean I have no arms?"

Alex laughs again. "Fine. The Birth of Venus or something then, some Botticelli painting in the flesh."

"Does that mean I should be naked?"

He stops and drops the camera to his shoulders, revealing his eyes, blazed and focused. "I won't stop you."

You're slow-moving and sensual as you reach the bottom of your shirt, tugging the shirt off, throwing it off somewhere in the vicinity of the chair. Your bra—different from the one from the photoshoot—is sheer pink, giving thin exposure to your nipples. He snaps away quickly, not even looking at the viewfinder, staring straight on at you.

You slip your shoes off and start to unbutton your jeans when he holds his hand out. "Wait," he commands, "just like this for a second."

"Okay." The idea of being captured half-dressed at one time would have felt foreign but you're used to being shot in much less, although, it still feels weird to be considered hot. To have Alex's voice boom across the room to stay dressed and not strip down to your panties. To be seen as desirable in your jeans as you did in lingerie.

"Bend down." You follow his command, squatting down, and he walks forward, hovering above you. "Look up." Your eyes stare straight into the lens up into his soul. He snaps two photos of your eyes piercing into him.

You take action, reaching up, tugging on the belt loops of his jeans. He's both choked up, blood rushing by the movement, and unable to take enough pictures of it. You're below him, practically on the ground, yet, dominant and controlling, completely taking him over and holding him in your grasp, smashing him like berries in between your fingers.

"Hold still," he orders.

"Haven't you gotten enough photos?" You argue, eager for more.

He rests the camera at his side, taking a deep breath. "No, I'm just pretty sure if you move anymore I'm gonna cream my pants."

"I can tell." You rub a hand over the hardness formed in his pants.

He jolts back. "Fuck, you can't do that to me." He chuckles timidly and you can't help but join him, giggling with pride.

You reach out, curling around his belt loop again, and yanking him back to you. "Come on. You can make a photo essay out of it. Call it: 'How to Give a Blowjob 101.'"

"Fuck, okay, but I gotta put the camera down or else I'll drop it." He takes one more photo of you, gazing up, bottom lip between your teeth, before placing it on the floor.

You're fast. He undoes his belt and you pull down his zipper, reaching in and pulling him out. You stare up at him and he stares right back. You take him around your lips and Alex immediately throws his head back, eyes shut, a groan escaping his lips.

Alex reaches down, fingers threading through your hair, pushing you down onto him. You engulf him completely, your nose rubbing up against his stomach, choking on him. He lets go and you pull yourself off of him, salvia covering your lips. Your hand continues the work, rubbing him teasingly. You play with the head, which really seems to make him go wild as he mutters, "Fuck," and is unable to make eye contact with you.

You take him back in your mouth, your tongue licking at the head. He grabs a chunk of your hair, holding it tight in his grasp to simply have something to hold onto. He juts his hips toward you, shoving his cock deeper down your throat. It's easy to tell he's getting close by the rough pattern he's handling things, unintentionally forcing himself deeper into you.

He's moaning and his grip tightens even more. "Swallow it," he tells you as he pushes you closer and closer to him. He pushes you down one more time before erupting in your mouth and you take it completely, every drop. "Good, good." He pats your head, exasperated.

Alex catches his breath and then bends down to collect the camera. "Take your jeans off now," he says and raises his camera.

"You first," you counter, "equal opportunity." He gives a crooked smile before pushing his jeans off, leaving him in his underwear and shirt. He goes to shoot again and you instruct him, "And your shirt."

"Alright." He takes his shirt off, leaving both of you nearly bare. "Now, jeans. Off."

You stand with your back to him and shuffle out of your jeans. You're slow, as always, intentional in each movement, pulling him into your trap and capturing him. You kick them off to the side and look over your shoulder, he clicks away.

You reach up to your bra's straps, pulling them down. "Bra now?"

He nods. "Just like you did with the jeans. Taunt me."

"Is that some kink you have?" You obey and pull the straps off your arms first.

"I'm taking photos of you undressing, what do you think my kink is?"

You laugh and reach behind yourself, unclasping it, and just, carefully, slowly, pulling it off your body. "That good?"

Alex lacks a vocal response. He just nods.

Your hands tempt him, caressing your own body, pulling on the hemline of your panties. You look at him, questioning the removal, awaiting his response. He stays silent though, bending down, taking a picture of you from below, making you look even taller, towering on all the species on Mother Earth.

"You gonna go down on me now?" You ask.

He drops the camera into his lap. "Yeah, but take them off first." He pulls the camera back up.

You drop one side off your hips, then the other side, shuffling it down before it's at your feet, he takes another picture, you completely bare with your underwear at your feet before he puts the camera down and moves completely under you.

Every touch is teasing, not giving everything up at once. He touches you, runs his fingers through the folds making you shiver. Your spine feels tingles spread up it and you find it hard to stand as his mouth goes on you. Every movement eats away at you, your footing unsteady. His nails dig into your thighs holding you against him. You can’t help grinding against him, but he seems to like that if the satisfied sounds he makes are anything to go by.

He fucks you with his tongue, stroking your clit, teasing it, tugging it, pulling a string of vulgarities from your lips. “God,” you gasp, tugging on his hair, “higher,” and he shifts, accommodating, devouring and he doesn’t let you go until you've ridden out every wave, falling over him. Everything is overwhelming and unbearable but you're dying for more.

"Sit down," he directs you, pointing at the floor beneath you.

You listen, shaky in your movement, but he helps, taking your hand and carefully you kneel down onto the floor. "This good?"

Alex chuckles. "Whatever makes you comfortable. Sit back, we're not taking pictures anymore."

"You can if you want," you offer, completely bare, sopping in every aspect, your breath still laboured.

"Not unless you want to make a sex tape."

"Oh," you giggle, "I'll stick with eroticism photography."

"Fair enough." He smiles and it makes you buzz. "You'll be my pin-up girl."

You lift an eyebrow. "Your pin-up?"

Alex moves closer to you, hovering in front of your lips. "Yeah." His hand touches the small of your back, tingles running up your spine. "Lay back."

You do as he says, but reach up, rounding your arms around his neck and tugging him down with you, kissing him harshly. His body lays on top of you, his lips fight back violently. His skin is warm against you and you hold tight to keep his skin atop yours.

He reaches down in between your two bodies and lines his cock up, he pushes in a little then all at once. He's forceful and you're already hot and heavy in your breathing, sharing and mixing with one another. His hands move down, pinching a nipple on the way, and it's tremble-inducing.

You push up, rolling him onto his back. He watches you in awe, the way you arch your chest and throws your head back as you begin to ride him, your entire body moving rhythmically just like when he was photographing you. You have such grace in a moment that's so explicitly dirty. He is so captivated that you direct him, grabbing his arms and placing his hands on your hips, encouraging him to hold you and to speed up the pace if he wants.

And Alex does want. He wants to see you thrash and shake on top of him. He grabs your waist, his thumbs press into your hip bones to stall you, and then he's thrusting up into you, meeting your rocking hips harshly, pushing his cock as deep into you as he can get it.

You whine and bite down on your bottom lip to prevent moaning whimpers, and bucks your hips wildly, your skin slapping loudly against his as your bodies meet, connecting roughly in the most intimate way imaginable. Alex gains control of his movements, how his cock hits that spot deep inside of you so effortlessly. How quickly he's pushing you to the edge.

You reach down to pull one of his hands off your hip and bring it up to your chest, pressing it against one of your boobs and leaving it there, knowing he'll understand what to do. He cups your breast as he thrusts into your, massaging the mound before pinching your erect nipple between his thumb and index finger, tweaking it roughly as you bounce on top of him. You pant out and arch into his touch, unable to stop yourself.

You start to clench around him and you know you're getting closer and closer. He releases the boob he'd been grabbing and moves his hand down, pushing his fingers up against your clit making it nearly impossible to keep breathing. You're crashing, grabbing his shoulders to not completely fall over on top of him but he doesn't let up, keeps pounding up into you and flicking away at you.

Your head falls forward, your hair curtaining around you as you convulse. His eyes close and sucks in a deep breath. He wraps his arms around your back and he flips you over. Alex just stays there a minute, gazing down at you, brushing the stray hairs off your sweaty forehead before he leans down interrupting the roughness by kissing you sweetly.

You're still kissing when Alex starts to move his hips, gently pumping into you, pushing into you shallowly. Your wrap your legs around his waist and your heels dig into his ass, pulling him closer into you. He starts to speed up, his thrusts getting longer and harder, each time he thrusts. He kisses you again through it, his lips slipping and sliding over your as your bodies intertwine. He rests his arm on the sides of your head, getting a better position as he starts to push his cock into you, hitting harder and harder each time.

"I'm gonna come," he whispers to her, nuzzling his nose with yours as his hips start to get frantic.

"Me too," you mumble, tightening around him again.

"Fuck, okay." He sharpens his thrusts, determined to get you off before him.

He moves quickly, plays all the same tricks again, brushes away at your clit again, making your engulf him, whining and moaning. You scrap your nails down on him, arching right into him, chest-to-chest, coming uncontrollably.

Alex is ready to follow soon after, pulling out, giving himself a few pumps before he comes onto your stomach. He takes a few moments to collect himself before lying down beside you, heavy breathing in sync with one another.

“I’ve never done it on the floor before,” you say.

He chuckles, throwing his arm over his forehead, nestling his head in the crook of his elbow. “Really?”

You shake your head, smiling, amused by his laughter. “I’ve only ever done it in a bed.”

“Really?” He turns his head over, looking over at you.

You shrug, resting your hands on your stomach. “Do I strike you as some sexual adventurous being?”

He muffles his laugh. “I mean, yeah. You don’t have to be sexually adventurous to do it on the floor. You’re telling me you’ve never done it in the shower.”

“I’ve never fucked in the shower but, you know, orally.”

He rolls over onto his side. His hand reaches out grazing around your belly button. “Let me fuck you in the shower.”

“Now?” You question, still setting your heartbeat to a normal pace.

He closes in on you. His hot breath radiating down on your vulnerable skin. “Yeah, come on, let me fuck you in the shower.”

“Gimme a minute.” You push him back down onto his back but gaze over at him, focused on the angle of his jaw as he swallows, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. “What about you? You’ve done it on the floor before?”

Alex nods. “Yeah. Never in here.” Understandably so. The floors are hard on your backs and if the sex wasn't so good it would have been a pain the whole time.

You lay on your stomach, resting your head on your folded arms beneath you. “Well, don’t I feel special?”

“You should. You are.” He reaches out, petting back your hair. His fingernails scratch down, pull hairs behind your ear, and lightly tug on your earlobe.

You roll your eyes. “Come on, how many women have you photographed in here?”

“A lot. Never fucked one in here.”

Fascinated, you ask, “You’re a photographer and you’ve never fucked a model?”

“Never said that. But it’s not a habit.” You don't mind, he's naked with you now and not them.

“What did your last girlfriend do?” He remains silent, lips sealed. “She was a model!”

He laughs at your enthusiasm. “In my defense, I never worked with her. We met through friends.”

Alex places his hand down on your back, rubbing up and down the spine so softly. “What about you? This a habit for you?”

“My ex-boyfriend used to take pictures of me, but he was a stockbroker.”

“How grandiloquent.” His language makes you want him more. Who knew big words could be such a turn on?

“How boring," you countered. All those dull men before...

“No kidding," he quips, "you never fucked on the floor.”

“Well, you never fucked on the floor in here.”

He rolls over again, inching over you. His face right down beside you as he pleads, “Then let me fuck you in the shower.”

You sigh, “Okay.”

It's almost terrifying how comfortable you become with one another. Well, if Alex didn't take nude photographs of you and have sex with you within hours of knowing each other, however, he starts having you over more and more and not just for sex and photos, although that does often occupy your time. There are the dinners, the movies, and meeting his friends.

And if you didn't already want to be with him all the time as a boyfriend, he's a great not-for-hire publicist, talking you up to his friends, who are photographers, company owners, and casting agents. He talks about modeling like it's the greatest art form (that might have something to do with him being a photographer, but he insists otherwise) and he's always proper with his words, never talking of sexiness or desirability. His love for it is always nestled in the words of critique: "beautiful arches" "delicate lines" or "the way her face catches the light." It makes you laugh.

One morning, after you've slept over, and he's needy and doesn't want to part, you accompany him to a gig. It's some high fashion shoot and you walk in your clothes from yesterday and one of his jackets carrying his equipment as he sets it up.

An older woman with a thick posh English accent approaches you, asking, "And who are you?"

You extend your arm out, pointing to Alex, telling her, "The magician's assistant." Alex is all agrin over this and will have you refer to him as the magician several times. You'll laugh at him every time.

When you walk over, he tugs you into him, arm wrapped around your hips. "We should have you in a costume next time."

You roll your eyes and pull away from him, placing the equipment down on a table. "I think you prefer me in a lack of attire."

Alex tilts his head side-to-side. "Fair enough. I'm liking you in my jacket though."

You slide your hands in the pockets. "It's very cozy."

He gestures to the set in front of you. "I need a couple test shots. Why don't you?"

"And have the scary woman yell at me again?"

"You're the magician's assistant. Help me work my magic."

You do what he tells you, not without saying, "You're corny, you know that?"

"You'll love it. You do love it." You fake annoyance but the smile across your cheeks tells a different story. He gets you giggling with all this corniness and dad jokes galore. The photos come out all happy and commercial compared to the serious haute modeling that follows but Alex says they're his favourite from the day. You roll your eyes, but the smile still tugs on you.

"Come back to bed," you tell Alex.

He stays still, towering above you, camera in hand. It's early in the morning, freshly awoken, still naked from last night's activities. "I have to take a picture. How can anyone not want to take photos of you all the time?"

You sit up, the sheet kicked off you, fully exposed. "Well, usually, they like to touch the real thing, especially when it's their girlfriend giving you full range."

He tosses his head back, dropping the camera over his junk. "You know just what to say to get me hard."

You giggle, wrapping a hand around his wrist and tugging on it. "Don't fool me with your morning wood."

Alex tosses back, "Who do you think gave me the morning wood?"

"Well, why aren't you giving it to me?" You lean back, pulling him over you, and the time to resist has fallen as he places the camera down on the bedside table and his lips on you.

You reach down, picking up his hard cock, and guide to your pussy. He reaches down and runs his tip through your wet folds teasingly. "God, you feel good already."

"It gets even better inside," you urge him, desperate for him to enter you. He has you shuddering as he rubs his cockhead against your aching clit. You shiver and Alex moves his cock back toward your entrance, positioning the tip against your hole and teasing you, wanting you to beg. "Please."

He finally pushes you. "Jesus," Alex groans as he’s covered in your warmth. He pushes further, you taking more of his length. He's buried to the bottom of you, your thighs flush together as you both take a moment to gather your bearings and get used to this first feeling of the morning.

Alex swallows thickly and shifts his hips, falling just a little bit heavier onto you. He slowly starts to rock his hips against you. You grip his waist tight, wrapping your legs around him, countering his rhythm, pushing him into you. His thumbs leave imprints on your skin, guiding you up and back from him. He doesn't try to control you, though, just helps pick up speed as you get into a rhythm together. "I want to feel you come on my cock."

"You will," you moan, placing your palms flat against his back to have something to grip onto.

Alex picks up the pace again, his hips thrusting into you hard, making sure you feel him deeply. He hits that spot dead on, and then you're falling apart, coming around him, your walls tightening and gripping his shaft as your thighs shake, the orgasm overtaking you.

"Oh, god," you moan, reaching up and gripping his hair to have some idea of an earthly possession.

His eyes are glued to your face, watching in astonishment every time you come around his cock. His hands help to hold himself inside you, his skin tingling. Your pussy throbs and vibrates around his cock, and he curls his toes, so close, wanting to hold on. You're both sweaty, completely spent as he ruts into you, his pumping getting a bit sloppy as he gets closer to the edge.

Alex leans back and hooks his arms under your thighs, and pulls you closer, tilting your body closer to each of his hits. It feels just right, bursts of light exploding behind his eyes as he comes into you. His cock swells against the vice grip you have on it before he shoots his cum deep inside you. You throb together. "Fuck," he groans, his voice straining and cracking.

He stays inside of you, not wanting anything to leak. You're pressed up against each other like he's stamping you down like a wax seal and you're melting to the corners of him. You cradle his head, resting in the crook of your neck. He feels so good and he is so good. You cling to him.

Alex raises his head slightly, just to make eye contact. “I don’t want to move.”

“Then don’t,” you counter.

“You aren’t uncomfortable?”

You shake your head. “Not right now.”

“I’m not too heavy?”

You shake your head again. “No.” He rests back down, tired like he didn’t just get a full night’s sleep. “I’ll have to leave soon.”

“No,” he whines, his grip on your arms tightening. “It’s my day with you.”

“I’ll come back later tonight,” you promise, combing your fingers through his hair.

He groans in your neck. The vibrations rumble your insides. “I think you should ditch it and hang out with me all day. I’ll take just as many pictures.”

“You’re not paying me.”

“Isn’t my lovemaking paying enough?”

You laugh and then you lie smushed like that for just a little longer.

a/n: all photography & model knowledge comes from america's next top model, which i do believe to be the top authority on things.

#alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner #alex turner smut #junedenim

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sturnsdc · 2 months ago

Text

Cake

pair: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

synopsis: a secret relationship can be hard to maintain, especially if it’s kept secret out of fear of someone.

Daryl finds himself in a dangerous situation when the truth is uncovered, and he must make a decision that will change everything.

did he make the right choice?

warnings: ANGST, typical TWD scenes, fools, violence, mentions of death, fight, abusive father is mentioned, slight fluff, somewhat obsessive behavior, happy ending, depressive thoughts (due to a breakup).

era: prison

words: 9,3k

A/N: i said i was inspired by “Cake,” but then i was also listening to the album “Silence Between Songs” by Madison Beer, and i got inspired by the songs “At Your Worst,” “Dangerous,” and “Spinnin”... so, yeah.

btw, i don’t know why, but i always end up writing some scene with Daryl’s father, and it’s always violent. I’m sorry.

dividers from: @cafekitsune ! ♡

main masterlist daryl masterlist

if both of them had to describe last night, they would say it was magnificent, even perfect. After being together for some time, they finally decided to take the next step, calmly and lovingly. Daryl felt loved in a completely different way, in a way he had never experienced before. He gave a significant part of his soul to Yn that night, and he knew she did the same.

however, when he woke up, Daryl’s thoughts shifted after a few minutes, and soon his mind started racing, filling him with doubts about his partner.

‘what if she regrets it?’

‘what if it wasn’t as good for her?’

his eyes wandered over his now-exposed scars, and he could feel his entire body tense up.

‘what if this is weird for her?’

‘what if she expected something else?’

his mind didn’t seem to want to give him peace, and Daryl began to grow more anxious with each passing second. He even felt tempted to get out of bed and get dressed, to at least avoid the embarrassment of being seen once again in one of his most vulnerable, and in his view, "disgusting" states. However, before he could act, a few kisses on his neck pulled him out of his thoughts, and as he looked down, he was met with a smile on his girlfriend’s face. That made him breathe a sigh of relief, although the doubts still lingered.

“hey, sleepyhead, how long have ya´ been awake?” the girl asked, snuggling into her boyfriend’s arms.

“jus´ a while. Ya wanna keep sleepin´?” he asked, trying to hide the trembling in his voice, caused by nervousness.

“no, but i wouldn’t mind stayin´ in bed with ya all day tho,” she confessed, still smiling, watching as her boyfriend blushed at her comment.

“gotta go home at some point,” he replied with reluctance, sighing afterward, and she nodded, feeling defeated.

“it was worth a shot,” she said, leaning in to kiss Daryl’s chest.

they stayed in bed for a few more minutes, in complete silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Yn could sense that something was wrong, the atmosphere felt a bit tense, and she swore she could hear Daryl’s thoughts forming, but nothing came out of his mouth.

“Dar,” she called out, catching his attention. He looked at her curiously. “´s everythin´ okay?”

the boy remained silent for a few seconds, considering his options, but the questions seemed louder and were all he could think about, so he decided to take a risk. He had to know the truth, even if it hurt him.

“we okay?” Yn didn’t expect that question, and she coughed, surprised and confused. “sorry, didn’t mean to—”

“we’re okay, Dar,” she replied firmly. “´s this about what happened last night?”

Daryl’s silence seemed to be the answer, and then she understood, so a small smile formed on her face. She tried to make her words sound as sweet and firm as possible, so they would reach him.

“i really loved what happened last night. Ya made me feel safe, loved, and wanted. I enjoyed every second with ya, and i would love to experience it again,” she confessed, feeling a bit embarrassed by how excited she sounded. Her face flushed at her own words.

“ya don’ regret it?” he murmured, and she quickly shook her head.

“never, i loved it,” her hand gently caressed his chest, sharing her body heat with him, relaxing him. “how did ya feel last night?”

“safe,” he answered. “ya always make me feel tha´ way, but it was different, don’ know,” he shrugged, and though his response was brief, she understood that he had enjoyed it too.

she observed him for a few moments, and out of embarrassment, he avoided her gaze.

“ya want breakfast?”

and so they ended up in the kitchen, both fully dressed now, more relaxed and finishing the breakfast they had prepared together.

“so now yer goin´ back home, right?” the girl asked, and he nodded in response. “see ya later at the lake?”

“sure, what time?” he asked, placing his now empty plate aside.

“around 3?” He nodded again, then got up to leave the dishes in the sink. “i’ll wash it, don’ worry.”

“ya sure? can help.”

“nah, i got it,” she said, so he shrugged.

she wrapped her arms around Daryl’s neck, their faces much closer now. He quickly placed his arms around her waist, and then she felt completely at peace, knowing this was where she belonged — in his arms.

they gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment, not even needing to speak. It was something they both loved, the ability to understand each other in silence, sharing the calm and love they felt for one another.

but they wanted more, so soon their lips met in a kiss full of emotions; confessions; a secret love they wanted to keep for the rest of their lives; a shared dream.

they wanted to stay like that forever, but they had to pull apart, both now with small smiles on their faces.

“see ya at 3,” Daryl said, though inside, he knew he didn’t want to leave, that he’d rather stay there, in that same position, kissing his girlfriend again.

“sure babe,” she replied, but neither made any move to leave until Daryl finally did, letting go of her and walking to the door. “bye,” she said, still smiling as she watched him walk toward the door, opening it and holding it for him.

he stepped out, but turned to look at her one last time. She leaned against the door, and they exchanged one final glance, almost unable to believe how perfect life felt with each other. He then approached her again, giving her one last kiss before leaving.

what they didn’t know was that they were being watched by someone who shouldn’t have been returning home yet but had decided to, and now felt their blood boiling at what they had just seen.

by the time Daryl was nearing his house, he began to feel that something was wrong, as if something bad was about to happen, and suddenly, a wave of dread hit him when he stood at the front door. However, he went inside anyway, and the first thing he received after closing the door was his father’s fist crashing into his cheek, sending him reeling in shock.

Daryl growled, tasting the metallic flavor of blood in his mouth, but he knew this was just the beginning.

“wha´ have i taught ya yer whole life? huh? how many times have i told ya to stay away from whores?” Daryl froze on the floor upon hearing those words, and his father took advantage of that to start kicking him with all his might, over and over. “how many times have i told ya they’re all the same?” the boy couldn’t even defend himself, as the man didn’t even let him catch his breath. “ya know how they are, and yet ya chose to be with tha´ bitch! fer what!? to hook up with ´er and be like yer brother?” he stopped kicking him after the question, but his breathing was erratic, and he was ready to hit him again.

“she’s not like tha´…” Daryl responded with difficulty, coughing up blood from his mouth, staining the floor of the house. “she’s not…”

“liar!” then the man threw himself onto his son’s body, slamming his fists into his face again and again. “yer a fucking liar! ya’ become a pussy ´cause her!” his voice was filled with disappointment and anger. “yer gonna leave that bitch.” Daryl wanted to interrupt, wanted to defend himself and yell at him. He shook his head while blood poured from his mouth and his face grew numb. “yes, yer gonna. Yer gonna leave her, or ya know i’ll kill her. Ya know i can do it.” he stopped hitting him, bringing his face close to his son’s as he spoke in a threatening tone. “yer gonna leave that whore, ya can come up with whatever excuse ya wan´, i don’t give a damn, but yer gonna leave her, and if i ever see her again…” he paused, catching his breath. “if i ever see ´er again, her head will be hangin´ on yer damn door, do-you-understand?”

Daryl remained silent, feeling powerless, afraid, sad, and in pain. So much pain.

“do you understand!?” he flinched at the shout, but then nodded, making the man finally release him, leaving him lying on the floor, bleeding and with horrible marks on his body that would take time to fade.

his father then went to grab a beer from the fridge, placing it for a moment on his bloody knuckles before opening it, all without looking at his son again, who remained on the floor.

Daryl thought about his options, though he felt dizzy, and his body was growing colder and heavier.

he knew his father was a dangerous man; he had lived under the same roof his whole life, but he didn’t remember him threatening Merle in the same way, though he knew he was capable of carrying it out.

‘she shouldn’t suffer’ was all he could think, and the fear that something might happen to her consumed him. He couldn’t let her suffer, not because of his stupid father. However, Daryl knew perfectly well that she wouldn’t let him go easily, especially if she saw the state his father had left him in, so he had to think of a way to convince her to stay away, had to do something to make her not want to come near him again.

anyway... he would probably think about it later, as his body started to feel too heavy, and his eyes closed without him being able to stop it.

the last image in his mind before losing consciousness was of his girlfriend. The only person who had respected, accepted, and loved him despite all the bad things that came with him. The only one who wanted to see the good in him, even when he couldn’t.

she had always been there, and she knew the things his father did, which was why their relationship had remained a secret all this time. Now he would have to convince her to stay away, even though their last interaction had been an immense display of love, after having shared the best night of their lives.

that day, Daryl didn’t show up at the lake as they had agreed, which worried Yn. Her first instinct was to be concerned, immediately thinking that something could have gone wrong at his house. However, Daryl had made her promise not to come near that place, no matter what, so she decided to give him some space. ‘Maybe he’ll come to my house later,’ she tried to convince herself.

that day, she didn’t see him again, and the worry kept her from sleeping all night, even though she had to go back to school the next day.

it was hard to get up for school, considering how heavy her body felt from exhaustion. However, the desire to see Daryl and make sure he was okay was much stronger, so she forced herself to get up, taking a record-breaking shower and putting on the shirt her boyfriend had left a few weeks ago, which still had his scent, giving her comfort.

when she arrived at school, she started walking through the hallways looking for her boyfriend, but there was no trace of him anywhere. The same thing happened in the classes they were supposed to have together that day.

‘where is he?’ she asked herself over and over, checking the doors and windows of every classroom and hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of him in the most unexpected places.

but he was nowhere to be found.

after school, she retraced their usual spots again and again, and the idea of going to his house became more and more tempting.

‘what if something happened to him?’ ‘what if his father did something?’ ‘or Merle?’ her mind wouldn’t let her rest, and the worry planted a painful weight in her chest. ‘what if he’s regretting it?’ her thoughts started to turn against her, and the anxiety began to overwhelm her even more than before.

this became her routine for a few more days, until she finally got tired of keeping that promise and decided to follow her gut. Before she could even consider it a few more times, her feet had already taken her to the entrance of the Dixon house, and she knocked on the door as calmly as she could.

she realized she wasn’t prepared when the door opened, revealing her boyfriend’s bruised face, who looked just as surprised to see her.

“wha´…?” but he didn’t finish the question, instead clearing his throat, his expression hardening instantly.

“i was worried. You hadn’t shown up, and i didn’t know if… ya were okay. Dar, what happened to ya?” she tried to approach him, her face filled with concern, but it soon turned to confusion when Daryl dodged her touch. “are you mad at me?”

“i told ya not to come here. Why couldn’t ya jus´ listen?” his tone was angry, and his gaze was cold, which caught her off guard.

“i was worried, i thought somethin´ really bad had happened, and the anxiety was killing me, ’m sorry.” she still tried to remain calm.

“ya couldn’t wait a little longer, could ya? always so damn clingy and anxious.” his venomous words struck a different kind of pain in her chest, wounding her.

“Dar, what do you mean?” she let out a nervous laugh, not understanding what was happening so suddenly.

“we had sex already, the hell ya want now?” he raised his voice, startling Yn.

“you think ’m here to have sex again?” now she sounded offended. “You disappeared fer days, Daryl! i thought somethin´ bad had happened to ya, and i held back fer days, and when i finally come to check on ya, i see yer bruised face, and i get this shitty attitude from ya. What the hell?” she waited for a response, but he stayed silent. “gonna tell me what this is all about?”

“ya shouldn’t have come,” he replied.

“cut that shit. What did i do to ya?” his evasive responses only fueled her anger and confusion.

“’m sick of this! yer so annoying. I just wanted some time fer myself, and ya weren’t supposed to come here!” he took a step forward, and she stepped back. “jus´ leave me the hell alone. Don’t wanna see yer stupid little face ´round here. ’m done with this.”

“what?” her eyes widened, and she felt frozen in place, unable to believe what she had just heard. “can i at least know what changed?” this time, her voice came out low and weak, her eyes fixed on his.

“just can’t do this anymore. I tried, but yer… too much.” before she could respond, he slammed the door in her face, leaving her standing there.

she could feel her heart breaking, and she even started to feel sick. She took a weak step forward, considering knocking again, but quickly dismissed the idea. She couldn’t bear another humiliation. Her heart couldn’t take it.

when she got home, still in shock from the recent events, it was time for dinner, but she couldn’t eat. Her stomach had completely shut down, so she decided the best thing to do was change her clothes and lie down in her bed. When she did, she didn’t even have the strength to pull the blanket over herself. Instead, she curled up in a fetal position, breathing shakily until everything hit her.

tears began to flow from her eyes, her body started to shake, and she realized how tense she was only when she tried to move her fingers, feeling the intense pain from clenching her fists tightly as she cried.

she had never felt like this before.

Daryl was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She adored the way his fangs showed every time he smiled, or the way his eyes seemed to light up whenever he looked at her. He was usually rough, but when he touched her, it felt like he did so with the utmost care, trying not to hurt her, even when he was just hugging her.

she couldn’t forget the afternoons when he watched her study for her exams, even kissing her when he got tired of congratulating her for answering correctly.

she couldn’t forget their dates at the lake, or the hunting practice in the woods.

she couldn’t forget the nights spent listening to music in his room, or the first time they both smoked.

she couldn’t forget the mornings spent watching TV while eating breakfast.

she couldn’t forget the first time he gave her flowers, telling her about their history and meaning, making it a tradition for both of them every month since that moment.

she couldn’t forget the first time she had her period, and Daryl had to learn every possible way to help her because he had promised not to let her suffer for anything.

she couldn’t forget the first time their bodies came together, sharing the most special night where she gave something she could never get back.

he had taken everything with him, including that night.

when Daryl walked back into his house that day, he ran into his father, who looked at him with the same contempt as always before sitting on the couch with another beer in hand and the TV on.

Daryl took a deep breath, trembling, and quickly locked himself in his room. That day, he felt something die inside him. He had always promised to keep her safe, that she wouldn't suffer again if he could prevent it. But he never expected that, in order to save her, he would have to hurt her himself.

the image of Yn’s face turning into an expression of pain and despair would haunt him for the rest of his days, but there was no turning back now, not anymore.

days passed, and when Yn returned to school, she looked destroyed, which caught the attention of everyone who knew her.

she was described as a kind soul, a gentle and selfless person, someone full of light despite all the crap she had been through. That’s why many were surprised when they saw her so close to the younger Dixon, someone who seemed to be the complete opposite of her. They couldn’t understand how someone like her ended up falling in love with someone like him, and many of her “friends” decided to turn their backs on her when she "didn’t understand" their warnings.

“he’s going to break your heart,” they told her over and over, but she would just frown and defend him to the end.

‘they were wrong, he wasn’t the problem,’ she thought day after day, even when her best friend tried to make her see that it wasn’t true.

setting foot on school grounds brought back a wave of sadness she had tried to avoid that morning, and soon she felt her eyes burning, eager to release the tears still stained with Daryl’s name. However, before she could turn and run home, her friend’s face appeared in her field of vision, clearly worried but ready to help.

for a while, every day was like that, and it only got worse when their eyes met in a hallway or when they had to share a class. Both had to muster the strength not to run into each other's arms and beg for forgiveness, and with every second apart, they felt a part of them breaking, unable to heal without the other’s presence.

months filled with pain, tears, and immense suffering that sometimes kept them prisoners in their beds, unable to get up and face reality. At least in their long, unhealthy hours of sleep, they could be together again.

it took Yn a year to go through the worst of it, even though she had already finished school. She couldn't even enjoy her graduation and fled the place shortly after receiving her diploma. Neither attended dances, celebrations, or events they might have at least considered if they had been together.

then it took her another year to try to piece together her heart, though the new parts weren't enough to make her feel whole, they made her feel stronger and more protected from her emotions.

during all that time, she was only able to talk to one person—Mel, her lifelong best friend—who offered her a new chance when they both applied to a university in Boston.

it was far, an opportunity to start fresh, without him.

‘sounds good, right?’ that’s what she tried to think, and that’s what led her to accept the offer and take the scholarship.

she was going to forget him completely.

well, at least that’s what she thought would happen, but every passing day, she realized how much it still affected her. At first, it was anger, and when she arrived and settled into her new home for the next five years, she was so excited about the idea of starting over that her mind decided that to maintain that peace, it would make Daryl Dixon her number one enemy. And for a few months, it worked—she regained her self-esteem and started to feel more confident in herself. But then, the first guy tried to get close to her, and that’s when everything started to fall apart.

she tried, she wanted to give each guy who seemed genuinely interested in her a chance, but she couldn’t even breathe near them without her mind searching for something in them that reminded her of what she felt with Dixon.

she grew frustrated every time she realized she didn’t feel safe with them, didn’t feel even half as loved and respected as she did with Dixon, and whenever she looked into their eyes, all she could see was either a purity she didn’t want and couldn’t accept, or a lust that made her feel disgusted and vulnerable.

they weren’t him, and that was something that made her angry.

during the three years she had spent in Boston, she never had an official relationship, and she never neglected her studies. She only made time for taking care of Madison, Mel’s daughter, who she cared for even more than her best friend did.

unfortunately, Mel gave in to the temptations of university life and let herself be swept away by momentary pleasures, having to deal with the next nine months of her second year of school while pregnant with a little girl whose father remained unknown. And when the baby was born, Mel continued her old ways, leaving Yn to raise her.

Yn tried again and again to make her see reason, especially when the baby began to speak and called her "mom" instead of her real mother. But Mel didn’t change, and even though their friendship became more distant, Yn could never leave the little girl uncared for.

however, despite everything that had happened over the last three years, when Mel suggested a weekend trip back home, she accepted almost without thinking, feeling her heartbeat quicken and something inside her light up like a flame.

so, the three of them made the trip back. But just when it seemed like they would finally make it home, things took an unexpected turn. The sick began to appear everywhere, ending the lives of many people... or not?

Yn didn’t understand anything; before her eyes, she could see death rising and walking, seeking new victims as if everything they once were vanished in seconds.

‘what the hell is happening?’

YN'S POV

Dear Diary,

a year and a half has passed, or at least i think so.

things have really changed since the last time i talked to you, about a year ago, right?

Mel 's dead.

those walkers killed her, took her from the camp we had built, and almost took Madison the same way.

now we don’t have a place to live, and we go around together, trying to survive this disaster.

i still don’t know anything about Daryl. The last time i wrote to you, I think i mentioned that i looked for him from day one. I don’t even know why. I’m still mad at him, and i don’t think i could bear to see him, but something inside me wants to know he’s alive.

damn, he hurt me, and i still care about him—it's pathetic.

but i know he was made for this world, for this. I think even if everything got worse, he’d be the last man standing on earth.

still, i haven’t tried to look for him recently. I just focus on keeping Madison safe, fed, and teaching her as much as i can.

a while ago, she started calling me “mom” permanently. I’ve tried to correct her, but she won’t stop, she keeps calling me that.

would she be happy to know i’m taking care of her? i remember how she screamed while they killed her, begging me to save her because she didn’t deserve to die—especially not Madison.

i love that little girl. I’d give anything to keep her safe.

well, there’s not much ink left in this pen, so i guess it’s time to leave you. It was a good chat. Now we’re going to check out a store we found. Hopefully, when i open this thing again, i’ll have more to say than this.

bye, i guess.

i closed the notebook gently, placing it back in my backpack, which i slung over my shoulder as i stood up from the log i’d been sitting on. Beside me, Madison looked up at me, copying my actions as she got up from her own log. I extended my hand to her, which she quickly took, following me toward the store i had seen a few hours ago. I had kept an eye on it, making sure nothing was going in or out, and nothing was moving inside.

i put her behind me. She keeps watch—she’s very smart and observant, noticing things with impressive ease since what happened with Mel. Meanwhile, i took my gun, feeling the weight of my knives, ready to be used if anything went wrong.

we searched the place, and i stuffed as much as i could into my backpack, trying to make as little noise as possible and moving as quickly as my body allowed. Then Madi gently tugged on my shirt, catching my attention. When i looked at her, she pointed to the store’s entrance, where an unknown woman, armed and looking in all directions, had just walked in.

i considered my options, but she was blocking the exit, and another woman with a sword strapped to her back was following her.

i looked back at Madi, trying to explain in sign language that she needed to hide and that i would handle it. Mel and I had learned this form of communication in college, and now it’s what keeps us safe. Madi only understands the basics, but that’s enough.

Madi took the backpack and hid, and i tried to approach the women discreetly, but eventually one of them saw me and pointed her gun at me.

“what are you doing here?” she asked rudely, narrowing her eyes as she looked me up and down. I raised both hands, still holding my gun. “Drop it,” she ordered. I raised an eyebrow but complied, tossing it to the ground and kicking it toward them. The woman with the sword picked up the weapon, and then the other one spoke again, “i asked you what you’re doing here. We’ve been watching this place for a while.”

“apparently, not long enough,” i responded. “just came for supplies. We all need to survive these days, don’t ya think?” i said in a tone bordering on sarcasm, and neither of them spoke. They just exchanged glances. Then i heard the gun’s safety click off, and the other woman made a move to draw her sword.

“are you alone?” asked the one with the sword, to which i swallowed, feeling the familiar tension in my body, along with cold sweat and shortness of breath. “are you alone!?” she asked again, more harshly.

“mama!” Madison shouted, scared by what she was seeing, then ran to me, hugging my legs. “please, no!” i closed my eyes, sighing in defeat, realizing i could no longer hide her.

that’s when i heard the gun's safety click back on, and i opened my eyes to see both women lowering their weapons and looking at us with pity.

“what’s her name?” asked the woman holding the gun, looking at Madi attentively.

“Madison,” i croaked, still afraid.

“and you?” asked the one with the sword.

“’m YN,” i answered warily. But then both women crouched to Madison’s level, smiling at her.

“i’m Maggie, and this is Michonne,” said the woman with the gun in a much sweeter tone. “we’re not gonna hurt your mom.”

“ya won’t?” Madison blinked, and i could feel her relax a bit. I looked down at her, and she raised her head to look at me, as if asking whether we could trust them.

“will ya let us go?” i asked before Maggie could answer Madi’s question.

“are you alone?” she asked, this time looking at me, but unlike before, her gaze was honest, much softer. “Do you have a group?”

“nah,” i swallowed, feeling distrust flood through me. ‘What if they’re just pretending? They could easily catch us off guard and attack, or try to take Madi.’

“we have a group. We’re staying in a prison not far from here. Let us take you both there,” Maggie said as they both stood up. “we have a doctor, food, clothes for children, and we all sleep in the cells.”

“if it’s so perfect, why ´you here?” i asked, narrowing my eyes.

“cause we wanna give those people the best. The group is getting bigger, and we need to make sure everyone is okay,” Michonne replied.

“we have a council. They’ll decide if you can stay, but i’m sure they will. They wouldn’t let you go back to this. I give you my word,” Maggie said.

“and we can leave whenever we want?”

“yes, you can go if you choose to.”

“we just need you to answer three questions,” Maggie said, and Michonne nodded.

‘I hope I won’t regret this. I just want Madison to be safe.’

we've been in this place for a couple of hours, and i’ve already lost count of the people who have tried to talk to me or meet Madi. It's overwhelming. In all this time, i had forgotten what crowds feel like, the people enchanted by children, and the panic of losing sight of a child among everyone.

an old man made sure we were fine, and the committee accepted us much faster than i expected, especially when they asked about Madi and i told them our story.

people talk about themselves very easily, and that’s how i learned who is part of the original group and who arrived later. Most of them seem to come from an enemy group.

after settling into a cell, two women came in after asking me, and they were the most interested in talking to me. One is named Carol, she’s very pleasant and knows how to interact with Madi without making her uncomfortable. The other is Olivia, and she’s spent the last few minutes non-stop telling me that one of her heroes should be back soon, and that i’ll surely love him as soon as i see him.

she hasn’t even told me his name, she just keeps talking about how much this man has done for all of them, bringing food and being “a great protector.”

Carol hasn’t said a word about him, she just smiles and tries to change the subject, asking me questions to get to know me better, but without being... overwhelming.

then the sound of a motorcycle made several people move toward the entrance, including Olivia, who murmured something about that man.

‘Is he really that incredible?’ i wondered for a moment, but soon decided to ignore it, chatting with Carol about everything and nothing at the same time as i braided Madison's hair, who was sitting with her back to me.

“Carol is in that cell, sir,” i heard someone say in the distance, so i figured my conversation with the kind woman would soon end.

“woman, hell ya doin´..." a man entered the cell, and it was then that i felt like i was the teenager from a few years ago again.

he’s standing there, right in front of us, his wide blue eyes full of surprise.

i can feel myself stop breathing, and without realizing it, i let go of Madison’s hair, who turned to look at me in confusion.

“mom?” i heard her ask me, but her voice sounds... so distant, i can’t even focus much on it.

he’s right here, alive.

he looks older, and he’s growing his hair out. I remember when he used to complain about how tired he was of cutting his hair so often and how one day he’d stop obeying his father and let it grow, like some of the band members he used to like.

he’s more tanned, probably from all the hours outside. I used to make him wear sunscreen, and he pretended not to care, but i know he listened when i talked about its importance and what could happen to his skin.

he has a beard now; it barely grew when we were last together, but he shaved because he didn’t want to irritate my skin, even though i told him it was okay.

his eyes are unmistakable, i could recognize him by them alone. I know because i could spend hours just looking into his eyes, until he blushed and turned his face away.

his body is bigger now. He used to have muscles, but nothing like he does now. He looks even better, stronger.

then my mind starts to play tricks on me. I can remember the nights he’d knock on my window, hoping to sleep beside me because only then could he have a peaceful night. I can remember the dates, our first kiss, the first song we listened to together, the first time we shared a cigarette, the first time i heard him say my name, the first time he looked at me, the first time we went shopping together, the first time he cooked for me, the first time he taught me to hunt or use his crossbow. I can remember the words of love, the times he defended me, the times he gently pulled my arm to make it clear we’d do some class project together, and the times he’d pull me by the waist so i wouldn’t leave. I remember our first time, and the love i felt when he undressed in front of me, letting me see not just the nakedness of his body but also his soul.

“mom” before returning to reality at Madison’s call, i remembered the day of the breakup. The day my world crumbled because he looked at me like i was some kind of dessert he could consume before leaving, making me feel guilty and broken for the next few years. I remembered my pain, the times i couldn’t get out of bed, the times i wished it were all just a nightmare. “Mom!” And then the image cleared.

he’s here, the same Daryl Dixon who made my life a living hell from that day on.

“we're leaving,” i whispered, almost breathless, trying to think clearly but failing as i couldn’t string words together in my head.

‘I have to get out of here.’

DARYL’S POV

since that day, nothing has been the same. I had to stop myself from running to her every time i saw her at school, and the pain was so that i even considered dropping out, getting away, and disappearing from her life.

i could see the damage. Damn, i can still hear what they used to whisper about her every day, and i remember having to punch every idiot who thought they had the right to say something bad. She doesn’t know that, of course.

every day i remember how her eyes lost their light, like i had ripped her soul out with my words.

until the last day i saw her... she could never be the same. What my old man made me do killed both of us at the same time.

i found out she moved in with Mel, and i felt happy knowing she was achieving one of her goals. Besides… her best friend was going to take care of her. She did it for two years by keeping us apart.

i had to start working, at least to get a place to sleep, though it was really a shitty home, but it was what i could afford.

there were nights i cried thinking about her. Too many to give just one example. Sometimes i didn’t even have to wait until night. She was the only good thing in my life, and he ruined it, i ruined it by not being strong enough, by not being able to protect her like i promised i would.

i still see her in my dreams. She’s older, and we live together like we always should have. We talk about starting a family, moving, getting a dog, and living in peace. The worst part is waking up.

when all this shit started, i tried to find her, but with Merle, it was too complicated, and we had to join a group.

now i try to find her in every place we go, but there are no signs.

i wanna believe she’s still alive. She’s always been strong, much stronger than she thinks. That’s one thing we’ve always been different in. She wasn’t made for this, but she’s so smart she knows how to adapt, how to make plans and stay safe. She never needed me, but she doubted herself so much that she felt safer with me.

hell, if she only knew it was me who felt safe.

most of the group doesn’t know about her, only Rick and Carol, because those bastards know how to get information out of me. But even they don’t know what she looks like because they’ve never seen the only picture i keep of us, from when everything was okay.

that’s why i felt like i was going to faint when i opened the curtain of an empty cell and found Carol, a little girl… and her inside.

i could see the expression of surprise on her face, how she went through so many emotions in seconds while the little one tried to get her attention.

“mom,” i heard the girl call her over and over again.

‘Did she have a daughter?’ ‘When?’ so many questions started flooding my head, but i tried to come back to reality when the little one raised her voice, finally pulling YN out of her thoughts, though now she had an expression of pure pain.

“we’re leaving,” i heard her say, and then panic overwhelmed me.

“no,” i quickly responded, making all three of them turn to look at me. The little girl and Carol in confusion, but her… her gaze was unreadable, like she wanted to tear my head off and cry for the rest of the day at the same time. “i mean…”

“Madison, come with me for a moment? I want to introduce you to Judith,” Carol said to the girl, who looked at YN. She just nodded, now staring at the ground and not saying a word. Carol took the little one’s hand, and they both got up and walked out of the cell. The woman gave me a supportive look before leaving.

NORMAL POV

both are trying to keep their composure, but the truth is they´re failing miserably. Still, can anyone blame them? they never believed this moment would finally come. All the situations they imagined, all the possible responses they once thought of, everything vanished the moment Daryl walked into that cell.

she couldn’t look at him, almost as if she was afraid to, and he... he couldn’t stop looking at her, fearing that if he stopped, she might disappear in front of him.

“we’re gonna leave, don’ worry,” she said in a low, trembling voice, loaded with the emotions she was trying, unsuccessfully, to suppress.

“ya don’ have to,” he replied softly. However, he received no response, so he tried again. “ya’ll be safe here, Yn…”

“shut up,” she quickly said, finally looking at him, her eyes wide and red. Hearing him say her name after so many years ignited a different flame inside her.

all the anger she had built up towards him, towards the things he said and made her feel, everything was coming back.

“we’ll be fine, we’ve always been,” she said, her voice filled with anger and frustration.

Daryl could feel the deep pain in his chest intensifying. It was as if all the worst scenarios he had imagined were coming true.

“listen, i really…”

“no,” she interrupted him, stepping back when he unconsciously took a step forward. “jus´ forget it, we’ll leave, and it’ll be easier that way.”

“don’ risk the kid over this.”

there were a few seconds of silence, and Yn’s eyes slowly filled with tears from all the overwhelming emotions.

“can’t be near ya, Daryl, i really can’t do it,” she confessed, almost whispering. “can’t be in the same place as the person who destroyed my entire world in a matter of minutes like nothin´ else mattered. You treated me like scraps of food you no longer wanted, like a piece of cake for… for your discard… and then you walked away. You know what it took to recover even a little of what you took? what it was fer to understand that ’m not just a piece of cake or somethin´ insignificant? damn it, Daryl! i can’t get back my last year of school, my graduation, the moments that should have been happy and memorable but instead were depressing, horrible, ´cause the pain was so intense i could barely stop crying. How ´you expect me to be near you when all i remember is the suffering you caused? how!?” she didn’t even realize when she started crying, but when she finished speaking, she felt her cheeks burning from the hot tears, her throat aching, her eyelashes wet, and her eyes irritated. Still, after releasing what she had been holding inside, she took a moment to think, using the silence of the man to do so.

she thought of Madison, the little girl who had been by her side just minutes ago in that place, settling into what could be a definitive, safe place full of more children of various ages, with animals and people interested in getting to know her. Then she sighed heavily, wiping away her tears and regaining her composure.

“i’ll think about staying, fer her, but please don’ come near either of us.”

Daryl couldn’t even speak; he felt he would break down in tears if he dared open his mouth. So he simply nodded slowly before turning around and leaving the cell as quickly as he could, allowing them both to catch their breath.

it definitely hadn’t gone as he had dreamed.

however, there was one detail that didn't leave Daryl's mind.

she was wearing his shirt, the one he had left at her house a couple of years ago.

weeks had passed, maybe months, and Daryl had honored her request to stay away from them, though that didn’t stop him from watching over them as best as he could. He always asked, always showed his concern, and that was something everyone in the group had noticed. But they also noticed the sadness in his eyes, different from what they had known before. Even his appearance seemed more unkempt than usual, and at times his attitude was more hostile.

Yn wasn’t much better, and her obvious avoidance of being near the archer only confirmed the group’s theories, though no one said anything. They feared losing the trust of either one.

she tried, but she couldn’t get him out of her mind. She would glance at him out of the corner of her eye, listen in on the conversations of the women who were in love just to learn a little more about him. Even the romantic dreams had returned, and she could tell they were affecting her when she woke up with her heart racing, as if they were still together, as if nothing had happened, only to come back to reality and feel all the frustration return, leaving her in a bad mood for the rest of the day.

now, in the current situation, we have a more dramatic scene unfolding.

Yn had gone on a supply run with Glenn, Rick, and Maggie. At first, everything was quite normal. Everyone followed Yn’s plan, as she was now in charge of planning most of the missions, sometimes joining them like today. However, there was something no one had considered this time: the structure was much older and more unstable than expected, and there were some intruders inside that weren’t visible from where they were investigating.

that’s when two walkers managed to corner the young woman. In a desperate attempt to draw one of her knives, she tripped, and one of them lunged at her, pinning her down and preventing her from using the hand with the weapon, while she desperately tried to keep its face away from her body with the other.

“help! help!” she screamed desperately, kicking and struggling to get the walker off her. But it seemed impossible. It was enormous.

her trapped arm began to go numb, and her body thrashed violently in an attempt to free herself, but it didn’t seem to be enough.

then she felt the walker stop moving, and some blood splattered on her face. Soon someone pulled the walker off her, and she saw Rick, panting. When she looked at the floor, she noticed the second walker was also down, apparently was unable to reach her because part of its clothing had gotten caught on a protruding nail in the doorframe.

“thank you,” she said, panting and still on the ground. But when she looked at Rick’s face, she noticed how it paled as he stared at her, more specifically at her abdomen. So she decided to look down too, and that’s when she noticed the new problem she was facing.

the side that had gone numb must have hit something as she fell to the ground, tearing her shirt and her skin, causing a worrying amount of blood to spill out, made worse by all the movement she had made to shake off the walker. Now she had a severe open wound, gushing blood, staining her side, leg, and the floor. It was a mess, and seeing it made the young woman start to panic.

“no, no, Rick, i can’t die, not here, not like this. I need to see Madi, i have to get to Madi, to Daryl, i…” she began to say quickly, snapping Rick out of his shock. He shouted for the others and bent down to lift her. But the abrupt movement made her whimper, feeling how the wound seemed to stretch. “Stop, stop,” she sobbed, terrified and clutching the man’s clothes, now equally stained with blood.

when the others arrived, they had similar reactions, and soon they had to head toward the car they had come in. This time, Glenn was behind the wheel, Maggie next to him, and Rick and Yn in the back seat, trying to control the bleeding.

saying that many were horrified would be an understatement. Carol felt as if her soul had left her body and quickly covered Madison’s eyes, leading her away from the entrance where the girl had been excitedly waiting for the woman’s return.

however, nothing, nothing could have prepared them for how Daryl reacted upon seeing his best friend enter with Yn, bleeding in his arms. The man turned pale and ran to find Hershel, shouting his name desperately and helping him prepare the bed where they needed to lay her down.

the woman had arrived almost unconscious but finally passed out when her back touched the sheets. That’s when the old man took over treating the wound, and Daryl, without hesitation, offered to donate whatever blood was needed to save her. This is what brought us to the current situation, just a while after Hershel left the cell to inform the others. Daryl was looking at the photo he cherished so much, until he heard small footsteps approaching, and then a small figure appeared. Her face was tear-streaked, red, and she was pouting.

Madison.

the man swallowed hard, trying to think of how to handle the situation, but nothing came to mind.

“she dead?” the little girl asked, almost whispering. She took a few steps to stand next to the man, who was sitting in a chair by the bed.

“nah, she’ll be fine,” he nodded, though it seemed like he was trying to convince himself of that too.

then the girl did something unexpected: she threw herself into the man’s arms, crying uncontrollably again. Daryl felt his heart break at the sound of her sobs, but even so, it was hard for him to return the hug. It took him a few seconds to decide, but he finally let his hand stroke the little girl’s back, trying to comfort her.

when Hershel returned, the girl had to leave for a moment, but by the time the process was finished, and Yn was resting and out of danger, no one could get Daryl or the girl to move from the side of the bed.

it wasn’t until midday the next day that Daryl managed to get the girl to go outside for some fresh air and eat a decent lunch with Carol, but he had to promise her that he would stay to watch over Yn.

it’s not like he planned to leave anyway.

however, when Yn opened her eyes, she didn’t expect to be in an unfamiliar cell, much less in a bed, with Daryl Dixon sitting right beside her, looking at her in surprise.

“i thought i told ya to stay away,” the girl said, her voice hoarse but without a hint of anger.

“’m sorry, i got scared when they brought ya and…” he stopped talking, looking at her now-bandaged side and swallowing hard.

Yn looked as well, and then all the memories started flooding back, making her sigh deeply.

“that was close,” she said, fidgeting with her hands, avoiding his gaze.

“i thought ya were goin´ to die. I felt like i was goin´ to lose my mind.”

“why?” she frowned and turned to look at him.

“´cause no matter how many years pass, Yn, i’ll keep worryin´ like the first day, even if ya don’ wan´ me around,” he confessed with a bravery he didn’t even know he had.

he saw her eyes widen for a moment before returning to normal as she cleared her throat.

“you have no right to worry about me, not after…”

“i know what i did to ya, i know what i caused, and i can’t even forgive myself fer it, but please, listen to me now,” he pleaded, making her fall silent. He was tired of this situation and was going to speak once and for all. “that day, when i came home… he had seen it, he had seen our goodbye and how we treated each other.” He swallowed but kept looking at her. “he gave me a beating that knocked the shit out of me, ´n said he was goin´ to kill ya. He said so many things… and i promised to protect ya, Yn, i swore i´d do whatever it took to keep ya safe. And i had no way of doin´ it, but then ya came to my house, and don’ know, i took the chance to push ya away, even if ya had to hate me in the process,” he confessed, feeling a weight lift off him. “i never wanted to do what i did to ya, but i’d rather protect ya, and i can’t regret that.”

“Daryl, why didn’t you talk to me? we had been seeing each other in secret for a while, we could have hidden it more, we could have pretended…”

“nah, he would have killed ya. Tha´ day he was listenin´, and he made sure we didn’t get back together. He followed ya durin´ the first year and made sure i knew… i didn’t want him to hurt ya, but to do that, i had to hurt ya myself.”

they were both silent for a few minutes, but then she couldn't take it anymore.

ignoring the protests of her body, the girl stretched out and hugged the man beside her, surprising him. However, this time he responded quickly, inhaling her scent and merging into her warmth.

they were both home.

“i can’t forgive you so easily, ´cause i can’t forget the last years of my life, but i believe in your story… and i can try,” she whispered.

“thank you.”

“mom!?” both heard the little one, who joyfully threw herself at them, earning small laughs from the adults.

“hey, little one, be careful,” Yn said, pulling away from Daryl and letting the child lie down next to her, between the two adults, as the man remained seated by the bed. “have you met Daryl, Madi?”

“we talked a bit while ya were restin´,” the man said.

“well, Daryl, this is Madison, Mel’s daughter,” Yn said, unknowingly answering a question that had been on Dixon’s mind for a while. “Madi, this is Daryl, an old friend of mine,” she said this time, not taking her eyes off the man, who was looking at her as well.

it would take time for her to forgive him and move past what she had lived through. He needed to regain her trust and show her that he was worth the risk of trying.

and he is ready for that and more. He won’t let her go again.

YN's POV

Dear Diary,

it’s been a while since i last talked to you, huh?

i think you’ll be glad to know that i kept my word, and this time i can say that things are better. Maybe better than ever.

we found a group; they’re good people with the same goal. I guess this is what it feels like to have a family.

he’s here too.

he’s alive.

for a while, i didn’t want to know anything about him, i even thought about leaving with Madi.

but i suppose it was inevitable.

he explained what really happened that day.

i can’t help but think that maybe things would have been easier if he had just told me… but i can understand why he did what he did.

still, i was upset for a while, knowing that we could’ve found a solution that would have spared us so much suffering...

anyway, now we’re in the same place, and since Madi met him, she can hardly stay away from his side. She follows him everywhere, except when he goes on supply runs. She loves him, and i understand why.

he tries every day to earn my forgiveness; he works so hard, even though i’ve already told him the truth.

i’ve already forgiven him.

still, i’m scared of how much Madison cares for Daryl. I’m scared she’ll get too attached and start calling him… you know what, or that something will happen, and i’ll have to watch her suffer.

but i guess those fears won’t go away anytime soon.

for now, i can tell you that we’re okay, safe with these people. Safe with him.

taglist: @jamiesturniolo

#sturnsdc #the walking dead #twd #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl twd #twd oneshot #the walking dead series #Spotify

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darkserenity24 · 5 months ago

Note

hey! would you be opposed to writing a loki x reader one shot where he sees the reader's drink get roofied and protects them? i love me a good fight scene for the reason of romance 😌

𝘽𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝘽𝙖𝙨𝙝

Loki x Reader

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4.9𝘒

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯!𝘓𝘰𝘬𝘪, 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘵!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘯𝘰𝘯-𝘤𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦

𝘼/𝙉: 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡, 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚. 𝙄 𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙖 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙞𝙚 𝙖𝙨𝙠? 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙣𝙤 𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄’𝙢 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙛𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣. 𝙇𝙚𝙩’𝙨 𝙙𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 💚

You met Thor while on a leisure trip in Norway. He was doing his routine check-in with the Valkyrie, the recently appointed King of New Asgard, and you were spending most of your time exploring the land and working on your pieces.

On the last day of your trip, you gathered your work materials and settled down in a nearby park. Thor Odinson, of all people, happened to stumbled upon you in your natural habitat, intensely focused and covered in paint while working on your latest piece. Slowly, he crept up from behind you to take a look at your painting and was immediately blown away by your creation.

“Oh my, you are exceedingly talented!”

His unexpected jovial tone startled you, causing you to jump and accidentally swipe a blotch of red paint across the entire canvas.

You blinked, disappointment rising within you before looking back at the cause of your now ruined painting.

Your eyes widened when you saw who it was. Yes, you were aware you were vacationing in New Asgard but the last person you expected to see in the park on a Sunday morning was the god of thunder.

“Oh no! My sincerest apologies, my lady.” He uttered, frowning guiltily at your destroyed painting. “I fear I forget that my presence can be quite jarring to others at times.”

You shook away your frustration, granting Thor a small smile. “No, it’s alright. It’s only one painting. I make lots of them.” You shrugged, removing the canvas to set it on the ground and grabbing a blank one to set on the easel.

“Yes, yes, I see. They are truly magnificent,” He praised, observing the various canvases you had lying around. “Are you available for commissions?”

You stopped in your movements, brows rising in surprise. “Umm y-yeah sure,” You stuttered. “I do commissions, but unfortunately this is my last day here. I’m heading back home tomorrow morning so I won’t be around for much longer.”

“Oh? Where do you reside?” He inquired curiously.

“A place far away from here. I’m a New Yorker. ”

You watched as a knowing grin grew on his friendly features.

“Oh, that is perfect.”

The next thing you knew, you and your paintings were shooting off to New York in a quinjet headed towards the Avenger’s New Facility. That was where you were introduced to Tony Stark, the man who not only bought a lot of your original artwork, but also commissioned several other pieces from you.

You were even asked to design and construct a mural pretty sizable mural in the compound’s main lobby.

You couldn’t be happier for the amazing opportunities that came upon you just from your coincidental meeting with Thor, in another country of all places, and made sure you thanked him every time you saw him.

Thor became a very good friend, frequently inviting you to hang out with him and the team any time he was in town. A lot of these hangouts ended up being parties thrown at the tower.

That’s where you first met Thor’s brother. Loki Laufeyson.

If Thor and Loki were like night and day, you and Loki were like oil and water. You didn’t mix well at all.

To put it lightly, you and Loki did not get along from the start. When you first met him, you were pretty optimistic, however, that changed immediately when he didn’t even give you the courtesy of speaking to you. Or even smiling. He stared at you as if you walked into the room with two heads, sharp eyes scrutinizing every inch of you as Thor introduced you to him. Then he left, only parting with a hum that felt just as judgmental as his disapproving gaze did.

After that, you thought things would get better with him, but it only got worse. You tried to hide your annoyance for a while but couldn’t help it. You could only take so much. His icy green stare and offensive backhanded remarks made your blood boil anytime you had to deal with him.

It was no secret that you both hated each other.

One moment you were way too happy for him to be around and the next you were utterly boring. Nothing you did or said seemed to make him like you, and eventually you gave up. His approval didn’t mean shit to you anyway.

You were sick of him turning his nose up at you for god knows what and you began returning the favor since he was always being a pompous ass towards you for no apparent reason.

Thor tried to make excuses for his younger brother, stating that he was like this with almost everyone, but something within you knew that Thor didn’t even believe that excuse himself.

Loki was just being an asshole just because he could. He was a spoiled brat and thought himself above you for whatever reason. You tried not to let it bother you but sometimes you’d find yourself daydreaming about smashing his stupid, perfect face into the nearest wall. You weren’t a violent person by any means, but he was starting to make you wish you were.

Thor and the others did not help the precarious situation between you and both, only seeming to stoke the fire even more at times by watching you two argue. The team seemed amused by your bickering, especially whenever you got in a really clever insult that seemed to make the dark-haired Asgardian tick.

Eventually, they came to the obvious (and much safer) conclusion that it was a bad idea to have both of you around at the same time. They didn’t want to be responsible for allowing you to rip each other's heads off and did their best to keep you separated as much as possible.

You didn’t want to be invited to another gathering unless there was a one hundred percent guarantee that the god of aggravation was not going to be in attendance.

So imagine your surprise when you arrived at Thor’s birthday party with multiple gifts in hand, only to nearly drop all of them when walking right into an unexpected firm, unyielding body.

Frowning, you glanced up in surprise, not having seen anything or anyone in your path beforehand. A cool green narrowed gaze stared down at you, scrutinizing your presence as usual.

“Why are you here, mortal?”

Your face sobered and you felt the beginnings of a hot ball of irritation bubble up in your chest.

“I came to flip burgers.” You droned sarcastically before shaking your head with a sigh. “Why do you think, Loki? I’m here for Thor’s party, obviously.”

“That oaf informed me that you were not invited.” Loki groused, towering over you like some bodyguard.

“Well, he told me the same thing about you. Apparently, he lied to both of us.” You said wryly. “And don’t call your brother an oaf.”

“Why do you care what I call him?” He snidely questioned.

“Because I’m his friend and it’s rude to call him names. Now move out of my way.” You demanded, barely giving him a second to move out of your path as you charged past him.

You couldn’t even get through the door without witnessing Loki’s overcritical expression and judgy attitude. That man could annoy you like no other. It was as if he made it his full-time job to bother you.

Walking through the room, you spotted the gift table and trotted over, setting your presents down carefully.

“Ah! There’s my favorite artist. Good to see you, friend!” You heard a familiar booming tone and turned to see Thor pranced over towards you.

“Hey, big guy. Happy Birthday!”

He engulfed you into a hug before letting you go and instantly turning his focus towards the gifts.

“Are those for me?” He inquired with an innocent grin.

You raised a brow, shooting him a look. “No, they’re for everyone else but you.” You joked before laughing. “Yes, Thor. They’re yours.”

He feigned a look of shock before grabbing one of your gifts off the table. It was thin and rectangular, covered neatly in dark blue wrapping paper with golden thunderbolts.

Your brow crinkled in uncertainty. “Wait, you’re gonna open it now?”

He looked at you and shrugged. “Yes, of course. It is my birthday after all.” He smirked with a wink before tearing into the carefully folded wrapping paper.

You watched as his features transformed into a look of curiosity, then quickly switched to one of pleasant surprise as examined the gift thoroughly.

It was a portrait-style painting of complete his family: Thor, Odin, Frigga, and yes, even Loki. From what you understood, all traces of his family heirlooms vanished into space when Asgard had been destroyed in Ragnarok, so you assumed there were no other pictures he had of them all together.

“Wow, this is spectacular! And extremely thoughtful of you. I never thought I would see all of us in one setting again.” He said in awe as he continued to observe the painting.

You crossed your arms with a nod. “I remember you briefly mentioning how you missed your family, so I thought this might be something you would appreciate.”

“I certainly do. Thank you. I couldn’t ask for anything better.”

“You haven’t even opened all of the others yet so how would you know that?” You scoffed.

“There is a method to my madness. I opened yours first because I know you always bring the best gifts.” He stated as if it was common knowledge.

“I’m not falling for your flattery sir, but I am really glad you like it.”

“No, I love it. Thank you, my friend.” Thor said with a genuine smile, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Of course, buddy.”

In typical Thor fashion, his attention was pulled away, focusing on something behind you. You watched his eyes light up, and he began waving his hand back and forth, attempting to grab someone else’s attention.

“Hey! Loki!” Thor bellowed across the room. “Come here, brother. I have something to show you.”

You tensed and your gaze followed Thor’s across the room, landing on the last person you wanted to see.

You were slightly startled to see his gaze already fixed on you, green eyes simmering with something indiscernible. As always, he appeared to be upset just by your mere presence.

You’ve been at the party for barely ten minutes and hadn’t done anything to deserve his ire. The man was confusing as hell.

“She has created a portrait of our family. Come see!” Thor prattled, doing his best to get his broody sibling to come closer.

Loki continued to glare daggers into you, barely giving Thor a glance before stalking off elsewhere.

You frowned, more offended on Thor’s behalf than anything else.

“What’s his problem? Does me being here really bother him that much?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “He can’t even get over himself long enough to make this a good day for you.”

“It is alright, friend.” Thor retorted, looking more amused than you expected him to be. “Loki has been having a tough time. I thought this painting might have cheered him up a bit. Among other things…” He trailed off with a raise of his brows.

“What could he possibly be dealing with that put him in this bad of a mood on your birthday? Did he not get his breakfast on time today?” You smirked.

“No, nothing of major consequence. Let us just say he is fighting against himself when it comes to his feelings about certain things, or certain people.”

Your eyes squinted, not fully understanding what he was getting at. “Huh?”

Thor waved his hand. “Oh, nothing truly of your concern. He shall learn how to navigate eventually.”

“Sure,” You replied, giving him a skeptical look. “I should’ve known you weren’t telling the truth when you said he wouldn’t be here.”

Thor had the nerve to look sheepish, his hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck. “Ha- yes… about that-”

“Thor! Get over here, man. The DJ’s about to start and we need to tear up this dance floor.” A voice called out to him.

You turned to see Sam Wilson, who also greeted you with a nod.

“Oh, I do enjoy a good disc jockey,” Thor said excitedly before turning to you. “Would you like to join us?”

“Maybe later,” you replied. “I’m gonna go find Wanda and Nat so we can discuss how old you are now. I’m planning to get in a few old man jokes before the night is over.”

“If you must. Though I am still fairly young by Asgardian standards.” Thor proclaimed with a flex of his muscles, causing you to laugh and Sam to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, enough showing off, birthday boy. Let’s get on the floor.”

Once they left, you ambled around the room, eventually finding the others and stopping to chat with them. Thor’s party was now in full swing with people crowding the entirety of the room, all looking like they were having a merry time.

After a while, the music became a bit too loud so you headed out onto the balcony for a bit of quiet.

Walking towards the edge, you leaned onto the railing and breathed in the fresh night air. It was quite peaceful. However, that peace only lasted for but a moment.

“Is there not any place I can be rid of you?” a deep, resonant voice complained.

Your whipped your head around, meeting Loki’s forever accusing gaze as he stood less than five feet away from you. His arms were crossed as he glared at you, looking as if you were the one disturbing his peace.

You straightened and turned to fully face him, having had enough of his unwarranted antagonism against you for one night.

Placing a hand on your chin, you provided him with an exaggerated expression of thoughtfulness.

“Oh, I know! How about you just, I don’t know, leave?” You gestured with your hand. “The door’s right there.”

“I was here first, therefore you should be the one to leave. You’re in my space.” He argued.

“I was here first.” You mimicked his accent. “What are you, a five year old? God, I cannot even breathe without you getting bothered. You have some serious anger issues.”

“Perhaps you should stop breathing at all.” He sneered, taking a menacing step towards you. “That way I’d never have to see your face again.”

You flinched, taken aback by his increasing hostility. His malice towards you truly had no boundaries.

“Wow,” You breathed out in disbelief. “Are you sure you’re related to Thor? Because you are nothing like your him. I’m starting to think you were adopted and your real parents were probably monsters.”

His face dropped immediately, and you were about to claim your victory until you saw him swallow hard, a look of intense hurt appearing on his beautiful features.

Just as quickly as it appeared, his pained demeanor was gone, replaced with a look much more sinister. Angrier.

He took slow deliberate steps toward you, and it took everything in you not to back away.

“Are you aware of how pathetic you are? How pitiful you look while shamelessly flirting with my brother like some desperate harlot?”

Your eyes almost popped out of your head. “What? I never-”

“It is an absolutely nauseating sight to be forced to witness. As if someone as repulsive as you could compare to an Asgardian god. As if your own species would even want to be around you. You are nothing but an insect I’d willingly crush with the bottom of my boot. A pest to be rid of.”

You stood with your back straight and rigid, watching as he took one last step toward you, barely an inch between your bodies as he leaned down towards your face and whispered harshly through clenched teeth.

“You absolutely disgust me.”

The air was quiet between you for a moment, your chest heaving as you met Loki’s searing contemptful gaze.

No one was more shocked than you when tears started rolling down your cheeks. Loki blinked, his breath hitching quietly as he realized what he had done.

He opened his mouth, yet no other words came out to your utter relief

You bit your lip looking away, embarrassed at the knowledge that you had finally cracked.

You didn’t want to look weak in front of him. You didn’t want to cry. He was the last person who deserved your tears.

However, you couldn’t ignore the feelings of extreme hurt filling your chest. You didn’t know how much more of his hatred toward you could take.

This was it. He won.

Slowly, you lowered your gaze towards the ground and took a step back while nodding your head.

“Okay,” You voice came out weaker than you wanted it to. “You made it extremely clear about how you see me. You don’t have to worry about me coming around anymore. Bye, Loki.”

You backed away and turned your back to him, ignoring his gentle call of your name as you returned to the party.

You wanted to leave, to go home and curl up in a ball and sulk for the rest of the night. You told yourself that you didn’t care about his opinion, yet the hot, tight feeling in your chest was telling you otherwise.

But you held strong. You couldn’t leave Thor’s party yet. Especially since this was most likely going to be the last time you’d see him in a while. The thought of having to see Loki, or even thinking about him made a huge lump form in your throat.

You didn’t want ever see him again. He was a complete and utter jackass.

You trailed over to the bar, eyeing the glass bottles with a sad gaze. You weren’t planning to drink at all, but now you felt like you had to be able to get through the rest of the night. A margarita or two wouldn’t hurt.

Sitting down on a bar stool, you stared into space, mind replaying what Loki had said to you. What he had professed to you with a burning passion. The worst part was that you believed he meant every word. He was switched from being petty to cutthroat in only a second.

Did he really think that you wanted Thor? Did it truly seem as if you were always flirting with him? You did love Thor as a friend. How could you not? He’s literally changed your life for the better after meeting him.

You could barely afford to pay your bills on time before he recommended you as an established artist to all his friends and colleagues. You were appreciative of his support and genuine friendship, but by no means were you interested in a romantic relationship with him.

Loki’s perception of you was completely wrong, and he didn’t even give you a chance to tell him otherwise.

“Fuck him,” You grumbled, taking a small sip of your drink before walking over to sit at an empty table in the corner.

You eyed the dancing crowd not too far from you. Thor and his friends looked like they were having a blast. They were indeed tearing up the dance floor. If Loki hadn’t ruined your night, you would’ve happily joined in.

“Who are we fucking?”

You turned your head to the side, startled to see a blonde haired man sitting down beside you. He was certainly not familiar.

“Excuse me?”

“You said, and I quote, “fuck him”. I was just curious about who we were talking about,” he replied with a charming smile.

We? You eyed him skeptically before answering. “No one, just some asshole that I don’t need to spare a second thought on.”

“Then don’t.” He said. “Talk to me instead. I’ll be your distraction.”

You hummed, slightly confused but not immediately put off by the idea.

“Are you one of Thor’s friends?” You questioned. You’ve never seen this man before in your life.

“No, kind of a friend of a friend.” He said with a shrug before holding his hand out to you. “John Walker, and you are?”

You shook his hand, providing him with your name as well.

“Pretty name for a pretty woman.” He winked before nodding towards your now empty glass. “How about I buy you another drink?”

Your brow quirked. “You know we don’t have to pay for these right? It’s an open bar.”

He blinked in surprise, looking perturbed. “Shoot. Then who did I give my credit card to?”

Your eyes widened but you quickly realized he was joking when a smirk crossed his face.

“Just kidding.” He said, chuckling at your expression. You rolled your eyes with a small smile.

“I’ll go get you that drink. Be right back.”

He left for the bar, returning shortly with a glass of red wine. Sitting next to you again, he continued asking you more questions about yourself. You didn’t normally give men who flirted with you right away the time of day, but considering he was doing a good job keeping your mind off the person who shall not be named, you started to enjoy his company.

At least he didn’t think you were a disgusting insect that should stop breathing.

The drinks were helping, you thought, but you knew you’d have to stop eventually. You had to get home somehow and didn’t want to put pressure on anyone else here to take you because you had one too many.

“Another one?” John offered after you finished your second drink.

You declined. “Um, no, I think I’ve had enough for the night.”

Your brows pinched as you felt your head start to spin. You only had two drinks, yet you felt as if you had about five. Your body felt lighter than usual, and the music seemed extremely loud.

“Are you okay?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned for you.

“Um, I-I don’t really know.” You huffed, holding your head. Your vision was getting blurrier by the minute. Panic started rising in your chest.

“I think I need to go to the restroom.” You slurred, attempting to stand up from your seat. When you stumbled on your feet, John shot up and grabbed you, holding you steady.

“Woah there! I think you had more alcohol than you led me to believe.” He tutted, throwing your arm around his shoulder while wrapping one of his around your waist. “Here, let me help you.”

You shook your head and immediately regretted it as it made you even dizzier. “N-no I got it.”

“It doesn’t look like it.” He protested. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

“But-”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence before John practically carried you through the busy crowd and out of the room.

“No Joh… please. I wanna stay.”

He shushed you, leading you to a nearby restroom. You were confused when you entered, only feeling more alarmed when you realized it was a private bathroom.

He released you and you stumbled backward, hitting the wall as you tried to move away as far as possible from him. He stood on the opposite side, locking the door before turning to leer at you.

His hungry gaze traveled down your body and you shivered.

“I’ve been watching you all night, you know.” He admitted while biting his lip. “I noticed you as soon as you walked into the room, and immediately knew that I wanted you.”

“Please..” You stammered, slowly shaking your head back and forth. “I don’t like this.”

He strolled over to you, running a hand down your face while shushing you. “It’s okay sweetheart, you will soon. Trust me.”

You attempted to push his hand away but failed, barely able to move your arm correctly with your lack of strength.

“Stop,” you whimpered, tears now streaming down your face. “Please stop or I’ll scream.”

He laughed in your face. “Go ahead. Do it. No one will hear you, sweetie. I made sure of it.”

His cruel words made your panic transform into anger, and suddenly a rush of adrenaline surged within you. You used that moment to raise your foot as high as you could before slamming it back down onto his as hard as possible.

“Fuck!” He yelled, stumbling backward. “You fucking bitch!”

You scrambled towards the door in a clumsy hurry but failed to open it. You yelped as you felt John grip your neck before shoving you into the wall.

Then you heard the loud slam of the restroom door as it burst open from the other side.

A tall, blurry figure stood there, letting out a loud curse before charging in. The painful grip on your neck was instantly removed, and you sank to the floor with your back against the wall.

The sound of pained grunts and cries of anguish filled the room. You peered upward, attempting to focus your gaze on the violent commotion going on before you.

Your eyes widened at the familiar sight of the man who was currently beating into John as if his life depended on it.

Loki?!

Your mouth went agape as you watched John struggle to remove the other man away from him as Loki continued to pound his fist into his face.

“You fucking snake!” He yelled, one hand gripping John’s neck and the other hitting his face. “Is this what you do?! Huh? Prey on innocent women and keep them trapped while you take advantage of them?! Is this what you have to do to get attention?!”

His eyes were wild and dark curls were untamed as he drilled his fists into John’s boy repeatedly. His shirt became stained with red, the same red that John’s face was now covered in.

He looked to be completely feral.

“Pathetic. Fucking. Weasel!”

When John stopped struggling you knew you had to do something. Though the man clearly roofied you and tried to take advantage of your weakened state, you didn’t want Loki to get in trouble for murder.

“Loki,” you called out to him shakily. “Stop.”

Either he didn’t hear you or he decided not to listen, fists still hammering into John’s now unconscious body.

“Loki, you’re gonna kill him,” You whimpered lowly. Your hope to save John, and Loki by extension, was looking worse and worse as he continued to beat the man underneath him.

“What is going on here?!” A loud voice thundered as they ran into the room.

You breathed out in relief when you saw Thor crowding the doorway, other partygoers crowding behind him watching and gasping in horror at the disturbing display of violence they were witnessing.

“Thor, please… stop him!” you pleaded weakly.

Thor immediately took action, taking hold of his younger brother and pulling him off of the bloodied and deformed body crumpled up on the bathroom floor.

“This man doesn’t deserve to live! Release me at once!” Loki hissed at him, chest heaving and adrenaline running through his veins.

“Whatever he has done, he doesn’t deserve your attention right now. She does,” Thor insisted adamantly. “I can handle him, but she needs you, brother.”

Loki’s gaze slid to you, his blood splattered face going white and features tightening. He pulled away Thor, the other man releasing him and carefully watching as Loki made his way over to you.

He crouched down to where you sat on the floor, back against the wall, and head lolling to the side as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

He said your name softly and you blinked slowly at him.

“Is it alright if I take you out of here?” He asked in a gentle tone, gaze the most tender you’ve ever seen them.

You gave a slow nod, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carefully lifted you from the ground.

As he exited the small room with you in his arms, you glanced over his shoulder to see Thor, Steve, Bucky, and Sam standing over John’s mangled body, most likely discussing what they were planning to do with him.

“Are you alright?” Loki asked as he carried you down the hall, his normal velvety tone now deep and gravely. The sound providing you with more comfort than you expected it to.

You peered up at him with a small smile. “I should be asking you that.” You rasped. “I didn’t expect the night to end with you coming to my rescue. I thought you didn’t like me.”

He scoffed lightly. “My issues with you wouldn’t have stopped me from caving that bastard’s face in. He was hurting you and planning to do much worse.”

“But for me? I thought you found me pathetic… and disgusting,” you mumbled, closing your eyes.

Loki flinched, not liking to hear his own deplorable words he growled at you only hours ago repeated back to him. He was ashamed that he let his feelings of jealousy for you and Thor’s relationship cloud his vision and paint you in a bad light.

The look on your face when he said those awful things to you earlier made him realize how much of a misguided jerk he was being.

You were right. He was an asshole and you deserved to be treated better, and he was going to treat you how you deserved from now on.

“No, you are not those things, pet. Nothing I said was true.” He whispered, not really sure if you were conscious enough to hear him or not.

“You are truly wonderful, and I care for you more than you could ever know.”

𝘼/𝙉: 𝙒𝙚𝙡𝙡, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙨! 𝙄 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨. 𝙃𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙄’𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙨𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙪𝙥𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨. 𝘿𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙬 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙞𝙣𝙗𝙤𝙭. 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮’𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩 🤷🏾‍♀️

DarkSerenity's Masterlist

✦ 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰. 𝘙𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 ;)

✦𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 ✨

#loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki x female reader #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction

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