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peeweekey · 9 months ago

Text

8:05 | SAM

word count: 3.2k

summary: sam’s ten heart event with a twist.

tags: winter, developing relationships, fluff, swearing, cuddling, hiding from his mother in his bed lol

a/n: this spiralled out of my control and into 3k words… enjoy!

it’s cold.

the fleece coat you’ve bundled yourself in cannot protect goosebumps from forming from the biting chill of the valley’s winter nights. your breaths come out in cloudy puffs of air, the heat slowly draining out of every exhale. it’s dark out, poorly spaced lampposts providing the bare minimum amount of light to navigate.

you got sam’s letter earlier, a clumsily written note that was stuffed haphazardly into your farm’s mailbox—the yellow lined paper he used, all crumpled and ripped.

meet me in front of my house! at 8 pm, i’ll be waiting. there’s something i want to tell you.

the ending sentence is somehow even more sloppily written compared to the ones before it. as if he was debating whether or not to add it in, but ultimately decided for it—it’s funny to imagine him hunched over his desk, stressing over what to write to you.

well, you won’t deny feeling excitement over the possibility of whatever sam has to say. if the subtle skip in your step is anything to go by.

you walk through the silent night of the town, it seems like everything’s frozen in place during the colder times of the year—everyone’s safe at home, toasty under their covers and you’d imagine thoroughly enjoying going to bed at 7 pm.

you do too, sometimes. there’s less to do when the ground is too frozen to plant any crop.

there’s a lot more free time out of the farm during the winter. you’ve really started integrating yourself with the townspeople—helping haley find her bracelet, befriending sam’s prickly coworker shane, and even discovering a shadowperson named Krobus in the town sewers. it really is starting to feel like home.

walking, you cut the corner passing by emily and haley’s house—and there he is.

he looks devastatingly handsome all dressed in winter clothing. his regular denim jacket switched out for a dark woolen coat, his pants are unripped and, surprisingly, not smeared with dirt.

though what you like most about his winter attire is his hair. those wild golden locks are laid flat under a woolen beanie—a stark difference from the spiked updo he usually does (though you like that one too). the tips of his hair are slightly curled upwards, revealing that family trait of curly hair.

you creep closer, just watching him wait for you—the way he folds his arms in an attempt to warm up, and the little shuffle he does on his feet. you laugh softly, he must’ve been waiting a while—just like you have for him.

sam turns at the sound of your laugh, his body unconsciously tilting towards you, like a magnet’s uncontrollable attracting to metal. “you made it,” he breathes, his nose, ears and cheeks pinkened by the cold.

you nod, unable to stop a bashful smile from forming on your lips. “i made it.”

a big grin splits his face, mimicking yours. underneath the lone lamplight he looks jaw-droppingly handsome. you feel yourself become warm just in proximity to him.

“i wanted to talk to you in private,” he says. sam’s buzzing with energy, surveying the dark streets before meeting your gaze with his. “it’s kinda cold out here though… i, um—i can sneak you into my room…”

your heart skips a beat, like you’ve skipped a step on a staircase. “what?” you croak.

your eyes catch onto him wringing his fingers, a nervous habit you can’t help but always notice (not because his hands are nice and interesting to look at, not at all).

“you don’t wanna?”

“no!” you inhale, trying to alleviate the twisting sensation in your gut. “i do wanna, ahem, lead the way.”

sam smiles at you, dimples and all. he leads you towards the tiny bedroom window in front of his house. the window is already open—you assume that’s where he jumped out of to meet you.

he climbs through the window with minimal effort, landing on the flooring with a dull thump!

you raise a brow. “have you done this before?”

sam stretches his hand out to you, waiting. his smile turnt sheepish. “i mean, i think we were all rebellious teenagers once.”

you resist the urge to snort—sam’s nervous, you can tell. he doesn’t have his quips and jokes tonight. and he’s shy, but eager. like a puppy, excited and curious about the world.

“o-kay,” you say, one hand in his hand the other set firmly on the windowsill. “make sure i don’t fall please.”

sam nods, eagerly. the curled ends of his hair shake along with the motion as he does.

how endearing.

you tighten your grip on his hand, hauling yourself through the small window, trying your damn best to not make any sudden noise. which is successful for the most part, only a tiny huff of exertion escapes you.

annoying, yes. but the chill of winter burns through any energy you have faster than other seasons.

your feet connect with the wood of his floor, hand still clasped in his and the chill merely at your back. it’s warm inside, with him.

his room is the same as it’s always been when you’d visit before—shelves, band equipment, posters—but the ambiance is different. a little more charged with tension so thick you could cut through it with a knife.

sam does not bother turning on his light, you don’t mind it all that much. but it takes some effort to avoid tumbling over stray objects that clutter his bedroom floor.

“look, I know I’ve been about nothing but the band for a while now…” he starts. “but I don’t want you to think that’s all i’m interested in.”

you chuckle, clasping your fingers behind your back. “it certainly takes up a big chunk of your interests.”

he pouts, literally pouts. it must be the love bug you caught because you think it’s just plain adorable. “i’m really trying over here!”

“sorry!” you grin, “okay, continue.”

“well, um… shoot, this is kinda hard, huh?” he forces an awkward chuckle. “and nerve-wrecking… but what i’m trying to say is…”

“i’m really happy that we’ve grown this close, and well…” sam looks at you, he’s stupidly red—the color spreading all over his face. “i—i’m just wondering, do you think of me as… just a friend?”

your breath stutters, and you feel yourself blushing before you can do anything to stop it. you stare at him as he does with you. the two of you locking eyes for a second, it feels like it’s just you and him in the world.

you feel your shy admittance at the tip of your tongue. no, you’d say, you’re more than that for me, if you want to be.

sam smiles at you, shy but so, so overwhelmingly bright—it’s blinding. your head is running a mile a minute when you finally get the courage—

“sam!” you hear jodi’s groggy voice from outside the door. your stomach drops with dread. “somebody’s at the door! go and check please?”

you lock eyes once again, this time for entirely different reasons, and with entirely different feelings.

“oh my god, sam,” you whisper hurriedly, panic gripping you. “your mom doesn’t know i’m here—what do we do—”

“hold on—” he replies, with the same sense of urgency as you. “okay, okay—i have a plan, just trust me, ‘kay?”

you think you might break out into a cold sweat. you look at him quizzically, “what?”

sam gives you an apologetic smile with that stupid beautiful face of his, he moves forward, grabbing you by your wrists, and moving you with him—towards his bed.

“sam!” you hiss, alarms are blaring in every corner of your mind as sam all but drags you under the toasty covers of his bed. he lifts the blanket and stations you by the edge, covering you in the blanket—which is now a lumpy mess.

this is his childhood bed you’re in, where his mother and brother are just by the door.

and his mother is calling him.

“i’ll get this over with quick,” he says to you, already heading towards the door of his room. “hang on tight, ‘kay?”

you breathe a sound of agreement, way too jittery to formulate any proper response as you quieten under the covers.

though the sheets do feel nice, and smells overwhelmingly of that specific cologne he uses (stolen from joja inventory, he told you once). you will yourself not to relax and melt into the sheets so fast. instead, you listen for each and every sound that may give hint to whatever the hell is happening.

there’s a commotion that you can hear happening, the door swings open, the hinges creaking along with it—this whole surreal experience feels a little like the confrontation part of a horror movie, the helpless victim hiding and the heavy footfalls of the killer.

though in your case, it’s not one set of footsteps, but two.

“what are you two doing here?”

“you’re the one who called us over, remember?” you can recognize the band’s shut-in pianist’s voice from anywhere. “you were all like, stop skipping practice, seb.”

sam’s voice is oddly pitchy when he responds. “…well, tonight’s no good!”

you hear the other person huff, you strain your ears harder to listen. the huffing person clearly fed up with the strange behavior sam’s putting out right now.

“my mom and vincent are asleep,” he adds hurriedly. “they’d wake up—”

you resist the urge to groan, stifling your mouth under a sweaty palm. jodie was just speaking to him minutes ago, there’s no way they’d buy that. he cannot be a more obvious liar.

thankfully they gloss over the fact. “sam, why are you acting so damn weird?” sebastian asks, straightforward as ever.

“yeah,” the other voice adds. feminine but strong. which you now identify as abigail’s, you hear a pinch of impatience in her voice. “and why are you red? did you sit outside in the snow or something—”

sam chokes, which he tries to conceal as an odd sounding cough. abigail pauses mid-sentence. the shift in the atmosphere is palpable. you screw your eyes shut, hearing the rapid rate of your heartbeat. it’s so loud you’re almost convinced the trio can hear the thumping from your hiding spot under the sheets. this is it, they’re going to discover you.

“oh, oh i see,” abigail grins. “on second thought, i wouldn't risk catching all those germs. i’m feeling starved, let’s hit the saloon, seb.”

the aforementioned man grumbles, seemingly puzzled by the sudden switch in abigail’s attitude. “huh… why?” abigail must have whispered something to him—you can barely hear over the muffle of sam’s blanket comforters. “ugh, alright. fine. you owe us one, sam.”

“oh, of course! mhm, yup,” you cringe at the immense awkwardness of sam’s response, feeling the overwhelming urge to pull out your own hair. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah? now shoo! wouldn’t wanna get you both sick or somethin’…”

“huh?” sebastian replies, rightfully puzzled as they’re forcefully pushed out of the room. “why would we see you tomorrow if you’re sick—”

“well seb,” abigail says smugly. “let’s just say sammy here is taking care of some important business—”

“okay, bye!” you hear the door click shut. to your utter bewilderment, sam shut the door in their faces.

the room is deathly quiet, the air is stagnant and stuffy. once you feel it safe enough, you crane your neck out of the blankets to check over him. to trace any lingering feeling the sudden visit might’ve given him. sam’s got his back rested against the wood of his door, his back slumped.

“i—i wasn’t expecting that,” you say quietly from your hiding spot on his bed. peeking the top half of your face, watching the door carefully. “kinda nerve-wracking.”

and embarrassing.

“i know—i’m sorry,” he sighs, rubbing his temples. “i didn’t expect them coming over.”

“sebastian said you invited them for practice, though.” you point out.

“maybe i did,” he admits, creeping closer to you on the bed, even if he’s guilty and embarrassed. “i totally forgot—i mean, i was really nervous! my mind blanks when i get nervous…”

sam stops right by the side of the bed, as if he’s waiting for your permission to get in with you—in his own bed. and to be perfectly honest, you really want him to.

“kinda ruined the atmosphere too,” he looks away from you, eyes downcast and melancholy. “i had this whole thing planned too, and i, just… ugh…”

your eyes soften. “sam, it’s really fine. okay, maybe a little shocking but you know it’s not enough to scare me away.”

he looks down at you, worried. his eyebrows are ever so slightly pinched—you wish you could run your fingers over it, and smooth it out yourself.

“plus,” you murmur, reaching over the small amount of space between the two of you to clasp his wrist. “i’m not just gonna leave… just tell me what you were going to say—before the… interruption.”

that gives you the final push to gather your courage to tug him into bed with you. sam follows, flopping onto the empty bedding next to you without a fight. for a moment, it’s just the two of you, side by side, slowly huddling closer and closer for warmth.

and sam is warm. he’s practically radiating comfy heat you wish to burrow into—or wrap yourself around. the perfect bed-partner for winter nights like these.

you find yourself becoming addicted to the feeling.

sam angles his body towards you. you on your back and him on his side, it feels intimate and special. and for some reason, it feels familiar—like you’ve always belonged by his side.

“i think you know already,” he tells you, his eyes are not clear in the dim light but you know, there are practically hearts in them. “that i like you.”

you giggle softly. “and i think you know the same about me.”

sam tentatively grasps your hand, the freezing fingertips thawing under his careful touch. the caress of his hand on yours sends tingling electricity down your spine, your whole body feels alert—alive.

he speaks again, but this time his tone is a whisper of what it usually is. “stay awhile?”

“yeah,” you swallow, squeezing his hand in your grip. a small smile on your lips. “yes, i want to.”

“good,” he smiles, his eyes crinkle at the edges so softly and the dimples on his cheeks deepen. there really is no one else who can compare for you. “hey, you’re really cold… let me warm you up?”

you turn to your side, facing him. at this angle, your faces are mere inches apart. you can trace every dip, line and curve of his face, and he yours. your hand tingles with the overwhelming urge to reach for him and squeeze.

“it is cold,” you agree. “i’d very much like that.”

“phew,” he softly sighs. sam drags his fingers up your arm, stopping at your elbow. wherever he touches, a whisper of him lingers on your skin—a bone deep imprint you yearn for him to spread all across your skin.

you roll into him with little to no effort at all. sam drags you to his chest, your ear perched right above his heart, you can hear the steady thump! of his heartbeat from underneath. sam winds his arms around you, intensifying the heat you feel by tenfold—it’s not uncomfortable at all, though. you like it.

your bodies fit perfectly together, just like puzzle pieces. a mess of limbs tangling together. the warmth of him making you shudder in honey-like delight. it feels syrupy and soft and warm wrapped in his arms.

his hand at your back travels downwards, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake you feel even through the thickness of the fabric separating the skin of your back and his fingertips. his hands feel rough and calloused at the small of your back—from playing guitar and his skateboarding incidents—but you enjoy the feeling.

you trail your fingers under the thick fabric of his jacket and shirt, feeling the smooth skin underneath—the action has no deeper meaning than you wanting to feel.

sam’s uncharacteristically quiet. his breaths are slow and long, like he’s on the verge of sleep. yet his arms are wound tight around you—like he never wants to let go of you. your nerves make you feel like a slow simmering soup. warm and slowly cooking over the fire.

you two stay entangled for a while, in comfortable silence. sometime during the night you’ve matched your breathing to his, and he pulled you somehow even closer to his body.

but, a thump comes from his window, a light tapping sound. soft but persistent. the two of you opt to ignore it, in favor of snuggling closer to each other. yet the taps continue, and become louder and faster.

disrupted by the noise, sam mournfully throws the covers from over him to check, untangling himself from your grip. leaving a very him-shaped indent on the bed left in his wake. you groan, sticking your bottom lip out, you miss the warmth of him already.

“oh shit.”

the expletive makes you sit up in his bed, the comforter draping off your middle. you can make out the shape of him even with the dimness of the light—sam’s back is towards you, and if your eyes dare deceive you, he looks like he’s shrinking into himself a tiny bit.

“what is it?” you whisper-shout to him.

he slowly turns to you, wide eyed, his shoulders stiff. sort of resembling a kicked-dog. sam bows down his head—with what you think is shame, for what reason, you can’t tell. rubbing your eyes of sleep, you furrow your brow, craning your neck to look out the window behind him.

abigail and sebastian are there, waving wildly at you. your eyes widen. abigail and sebastian are waving at you with smug smiles plastered on their faces.

your stomach drops for the umpteenth time that night. you honestly feel too horrified to speak.

you bury yourself under the sheets, a feeble attempt to conceal your mortification. so that’s why abigail was playing along with sam’s urgent ramblings—she knew (not that sam was any good at keeping a cool facade, he is totally incapable of lying smoothly). you groan, you feel like a rebellious teenager again, only the part where you get caught and utterly humiliated.

outside, you can hear the loud roaring laughter of the duo through the glass, alongside the awkward, embarrassed chatter of your newly-minted boyfriend. (not technically official, but the title succeeds to relieve your horror by the tiniest bit)

still, you stay put. through the mortification and embarrassment you still stick yourself to sam’s side, or more literally, on his bed—because you know, there’s no other place you’d rather be.

you spare another glance out of the covers at the trio—to your surprise, sam’s beat you to it. looking at you with heart eyes and the most lovesick expression (you’re pretty sure yours looks the same).

you know there’s going to be a lot more explaining to do in the morning. but it doesn’t matter to you, not right now when you’re in sam’s bed on the verge of sleep.

not when you feel so warm.

a/n: shoutout to the ass trio for making an appearance in the fic! i love you abby and seb.

1K notes · View notes

mochamadeleines · 3 months ago

Text

Sweethearts and Sweet Dreams <3

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.” (6.4k words)

tags!! - 18+ modern au! Husband! Joel Miller, Wife! Reader, you guys are happy and in love!, mutual obsession if u squint, lots of exposition im so freaking sorry, pervert Joel if u squint, praise kink joel if you squint, dumbification if you squint, written for those with daddy issues lowkeeyyyyy, written with game joel in mind but could be hbo joel no problem!, lowk i combined the two in my mind, mentions of shy old man joel, housewife! reader (by choice), unspecified age gap but reader is like. thirty? and joels Like...55??, talk about joel taking medication for his anxiety, p in v sex, dirty talk, public sex, outdoor sex, joel has a kink for dresses because i said so? service top joel if you squint, pet names, a pinch of jealousy and possessiveness for fun, playful banter, mentions of maria and tommy and their baby with a made up name Lol, mentions of ellie and sarah (rip), mentions of readers past abusive relationships, talk about joel struggling with substance abuse/addiction and being hospitalized.....Im sure u can theorize why </3, lots of lore ill get into in another fic MAYBE *smirks*, flip flop in perspective, sometimes showing what joel is thinking or what reader is thinking blah blah

authors notes!! - hi there!!! im mocha and this is my first joel fic ever + my first fic posted to tumblr!! im really nervous cuz i havent written anything in months and ive never written joel before so please let me know if you like it!! id love to write more of this au for u guys if theres a demand for it...Thank u for reading!! also barely proof read im ngl. ive been staring at this fic all day im sick of itttt. p.s i dont usually write smut i also kinda do idfk Is this bad or am i tweaking

You step out of the house, morning sun soaking into the roots of your hair and the driveway beneath your feet. Theres a package youve been waiting for.

You cant contain your grin as you wiggle it out of the hot prison that is your mailbox.

“What the hell are you doin’ out there barefoot?” Joel chastises you from the front door, leaning his elbow on the frame. Joel, your lovely husband of two years. Been together for five. And because of how hard he works, you have the privilege of being a stay at home wife. Some people think that sort of life is stifling, but youve never felt so free. No more jobs you hate, no more financial struggles. Just you, Joel, and your cat, Cement. He likes to pretend it isnt a totally hilarious name for a pet.

You were his first relationship in almost a decade, so it was a lot of work helping him unpack his anxieties about dating, and a lot of work for you to feel safe and unafraid. Honestly? Youve been mistreated by enough men to land you in the psychward.

But Joel never yells at you, he never breaks things when hes angry or threatens to hurt you. He might raise his voice every now and again, but its never because of something you did. Sometimes the stress of life is just too much.

He works hard, he loves his daughter- daughters- and he would do anything to keep you happy. Whatever you say goes, he says. Even now, you hardly argue. Of course you have disagreements, or off days thatd lead to one of you being especially moody, but the both of you do your best to communicate.

Behind that rough exterior, is someone who just wants to be needed.

You first met Joel at a youth center you volunteered at, he taught guitar, you taught arts and crafts. Joel says it was your smile and sense of humor that charmed him. It was his singing and southern accent for you.

Your favorite thing about Joel is how soft he gets around you. He says its because you make it easy to be soft.

Joel was a shy lover at first. He would get nervous just kissing you, or holding your hand. While most people become intimate very early on in their relationship, you and Joel didnt do anything sexual for the first five months of you dated. Sure, you almost did, plenty of times, but he would get so overwhelmed and cut things short. You broke two of your vibrators during this era of your relationship. Embarassing.

You remember your first time very vividly. Joel had worked back to back doubles trying to meet a deadline, and on the final day, after having barely spoken to you for almost a week, you had shown up to his house, unannounced. You were wringing water out of your jacket when he swung the door open.

“How-” Joel blinks a few times, stepping forward to examine the rainfall. “How long you been out here?”

“Not that long,” You lie and pick up the container you brought off the porch chair. Part of you had a hard time mustering up the courage to even knock on the door. Droplets of water cascade down your chin. “Hi, sorry. I know youre tired.”

He shakes his head, voice soft and warm. “S’fine. Now c’mon, youre gonna get sick.”

Youre seated at the little dining table next to the kitchen now, trying to let the sound of the rainfall ease your nerves.

Joel was quick to grab you a towel, and does the honors of drying your face and hair with it. “Why didnt you jus’ call me? Woulda gotten out of the shower faster if i knew you were gettin’ soaked out there like this.”

“I dunno, sorry.”

“An’ whatd i tell you about apologizin’ all the time?”

“Sor- Uh. Right. Okay.” You tighten your jaw. No more.

Joel moves behind you, now squeezing water out the ends of your hair. “Whas’ that?”

“Oh!-” You peel back the lid, showing it to him. “Old fashion cake donuts are your favorite right? I remember you saying you liked eating them with your coffee in the mornings so…I made these. Youve been working a lot lately and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Joel gingerly grasps the container from your hands, looking into it. Theyre a warm golden brown, outside evenly fried, and the sweet scent of them hits his nose right away.

“I was just gonna leave them on the doorstep and call you to tell you they were there, but I wanted to see you.”

His adam's apple bobs as he swallows the dryness in his throat. Youre too good for him.

“Thank you very much.” He presses a kiss to your damp hair. “Now, lets get you into some dry clothes.”

Joel gives you a t-shirt and a pair of his boxers to keep you modest while your clothes wash and dry.

You wait patiently on his bed for the hot chocolate he promised you before you showered. Theres nothing to watch on the tv, so you just turn it off and reach for the lamp on his nightstand instead.

He comes in quietly, and sets the mug down beside the lamp. You finally come into focus, clear as day even under the low lighting.

“You uh.. You look nice.”

You blink. “I look nice?”

“In my shirt.”

That gets a smile out of you.

Joel tips his head towards the mug. “S’hot so, give it a few minutes. Dont want you burnin’ your mouth.”

You nod. “Okay.”

Hes sat beside you now and the two of you sit in silence for a while. Its not awkward, just the kind of silence where both of you want to say something but just.. Cant.

Joel unravels first. “Missed you, y’know. Just been tired.”

“I know.” Your voice wobbles, and Joels jaw tightens like hearing you sound so sad stings him. “I missed you, too.”

He slides his hand over yours, giving it a squeeze. Its okay.

“Hey Joel...Can I stay the night?”

“Sure. Id really like that.”

While you drink your hot chocolate, you and Joel catch up. You both talk about work, and about your new found interest in baking. Joel teases you about your lack of cooking skills, you do the same. Youre both useless.

When its time to climb into bed, neither of you can actually fall asleep. Joel rolls onto his side, away from you and the window. You follow, curling up like a little cat against his back. The sensation is nice for the both of you.

You speak up after a little while.

“Joel?”

“Mm.”

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

He scoffs, voice thick with exhaustion. “Like I'd force you to leave after you brought me such a nice present.”

You let out a little giggle, “So if i didnt, youd kick me out?”

“Id think ‘bout it.”

You gasp, gently shoving at his back. “Thats mean…!”

“S’really not.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I poisoned them?.”

“Then itd jus' be a regular day of your cookin’ then.” Joel reminds you, lighthearted. Too many times where you left the shells in your eggs or burnt toast or left the bacon on the pan for too long.

“You cant get mad at me for my dark past when you made a perfectly good sirloin taste like horse leather.”

“Ugh. Dont remind me. That was like putting a one-hundred dollar bill into a paper shredder. How do either of us stay alive again?”

“Uh. Digiorno?”

“Digiorno.”

After a few moments, Joels rolling over again, and hes guiding your head to settle against his chest. Your arms wrap around him, and his arms around you.

“Joel,” You whisper. He hums. “Im cold.”

“S’cause youre not wearin’ any pants.”

“And whos fault is that?”

“Still yours.”

“I was left out in the rain like a sad, sopping wet cat. One that was left in a box all alone with no family…” You pretend to sniffle. “Dont you feel bad for me?”

Joel sighs, not saying anything more except making sure the part of the comforter behind your back is tucked into your side so the cold air doesnt get in. When hes done, you do a little shimmy up his body, and throw your leg over his hip. Oh no.

Hes alert now. Very alert. Be normal. Joel hesitates, licking the dryness off his lips. “Uh. Feel better?”

“Mhm.” You push your face into his throat, cat-like, before settling down again. Hes like a radiator.

Actually scratch that, he cant be normal.

“Darlin’.” He rasps, patting your back to get your attention.

“Mm?”

“Your leg. Move it.”

A few beats pass. “Why?”

“Because…” Wow, he didnt think hed get this far. You shift forward and Joel lets out a quiet exhale through his nose, one that couldve been masked by the rain if you werent so close.

“Are you-”

“No! No. Its- Its not what you think-” He cant see your face in the darkness but he knows you feel the semi-hard struggling through the confines of his pants. Lame.

“Joel,” You say, soft. Your hands slide up his arm to cradle his jaw. Lightning flashes into the room, giving you a glimpse of Joels tight expression. He whispers your name back, just as soft.

“This is normal.”

Its normal, it is! Except for the fact that you guys havent had sex yet. The stress of being intimate is too much, kills his boner in a blink. The longer he waits the worse the anxiety gets.

“I-I know.”

You place a hand on his chest, feeling it pound away like crazy through all the soft muscle.

“Youve been taking your medication, right?”

Has he?

The silence of him thinking is proof enough. “Joel-”

He sighs, rubbing his eyes through the darkness .“I know, I know. Shoot, Im sorry. I just forget sometimes.”

“Its okay.” The pad of your thumb strokes the tops of his cheek, and you press a tender kiss to his mouth to soothe him. “...Want me to remind you?”

The softness of your lips has him a bit dazed. “Huh?”

“I said, do you want me to remind you? I can- You know, call you before you leave work. Make sure you take them.”

“You know I wake up at five-o-clock in the mornin’ , right?”

“I know.”

In a whisper, “Okay.”

Joels rough palms trail down your back and stop at the curve of your butt, finger tips delicately tracing the skin above your shorts. You shiver.

Barely above a whisper. “We dont have to go all the way.”

He says your name again, laced with worry. He doesnt want you to feel pressured.

You pull your leg off his hip and push yourself up, settling your hands on either side of Joels head.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yes-”

“-And you cant get all in your head about it. You stay here, with me. You stay present.”

“Okay, okay.” He nods, a bit defeated. “I will stay present.”

“When you...When you say you dont wanna have sex, what is it that youre thinking exactly? I know you said you just get really nervous but I feel like youre not being totally honest.”

Joel stays quiet, idly rubbing your sides. Maybe you are a cat. Just getting to feel any part of you is soothing. “I jus’ want you to feel good. ‘Fraid ill do somethin’ you dont like.”

“You cant assume how I feel, Joel. Being intimate.. It takes time to learn what the other person likes.”

He sighs. “I know.” Youre always right.

Adding on, “Like I said, we dont have to go all the way,” You lean further back, situating yourself on his hips. He lets out a shaky breath when he feels the pressure of your ass through his sweats.

“But, I want to start somewhere. I want to feel you.”

“Fuck- Um-” Hes shaking now, letting you grind your hips down onto him. Joel cant seem to control the way his hips instinctively push up to meet yours. Youre both becoming of a mess of little gasps and hot breaths and tiny whimpers already.

You hunch forward, guiding his hand under your your shirt- His shirt- letting him feel up the supple skin of your stomach, then the area where your ribs are, then your-

“And I want you to feel me,”

Surprisingly, you did actually go all the way that night.

Your sex life was a bit of a rocky start, but after Joel got over most of his anxiety, you learned quickly just how goddamn insatiable he was. Five years in and he still regularly makes you sore.

There are a couple things you learned about him and his sexual interests. He loves to take you in his truck, in your kitchen, in your bathroom, on your couch. Other, riskier places. Anywhere that isnt your bed apparently, not that he isnt fucking you there either.

Joel is handsy, so handsy infact it embarasses you to no end, especially when youre infront of others. Thats usually how it starts, too. First he kisses you, then gropes your hips and your ass, and the next thing you know, youre cumming on his fingers. Then hed bend you over, or get you on your back, or make you ride him. Is it really riding if hes just slamming up into you until your brain turns into mush?

He likes that too. Making you not think.

Youd be lying if you said its only ever him. Sleepy morning handjobs before work, whining to him over the phone and touching yourself to his voice, arching your back into him while you're washing dishes, sucking him off after hours in his office.

And while most men prefer lingerie or little costumes, Joel likes dresses. Dresses that are discreet so he can take you in the backyard when he comes home early and sees you gardening. Or when youre both at a friends house and hes had a little too much to drink and finds himself alone with you. Dresses that make it easy to play his favorite game with you. I touch you, and you make sure we dont get caught by being too loud. Joel really is the worst sometimes.

Now, you only ever wear pants when its cold, or to bed or sometimes when youre lounging, like today. Youre in some shorts and a tank top. Otherwise, its dresses all year round, usually retro styles or ones meant for spring. Joels not picky though, he loves any dress on you.

Even if you wear an extremely modest, white lacey sleep dress, looking like some kind of vintage ghost, the man would still keep you up all night. And he has. He said you looked like a princess. You guess you kind of did.

The entire thing is like an unspoken arrangement between you both. He doesnt tell you to wear them, you just do.

And he works hard to spoil you, so why not buy as many cute dresses as possible?

You got a cute dress today too, on the same day Joel has off. You think its going to be a new favorite of his.

The big polymailer stays hidden behind your back. Be casual. “Uh- Nothing!”

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.”

“Lemme see then. Show me your hands-”

“Hey, Mrs. Miller!”

Both you and Joel turn your heads to the voice, and only one of you has the energy to fake a a smile. Your neighbor is stopping in his driveway, having come back from a jog it looks.

“Hi, Lee.”

Joel really, really, really doesnt like Lee. You dont like him either, but youre not one to cause problems. Lee on the other hand, is. Hes a bit younger than you, and a lot younger than Joel. Hes one of those tech dudes with a massive ego, thinks that youll be swayed by his money and his “charm” and youth as if youre some sad housewife in need of saving. Gross.

And another thing, Lee doesnt even actually live here! Hes here ever so often to visit his dad between, you dont know, tech expos? You forget. Joel believes he started showing up more often to see you.

Youre walking towards the porch again. Joels looking especially unhappy to see him today, knuckles pulled taut into a fist. His lips stay pressed into a thin line, careful not to let anything slip out. He usually lets you do most of the talking, as much as it pains him.

Joels really not a fan of the way Lees eyes take a trip up your bare legs. Little shit.

“Out with no shoes again, Mrs. Miller?”

“You know me, Im uh- Im weird.”

“The weird ones do it best.” He smiles, all teeth. It gives you the creeps. His attention is on Joel now. Its like watching a puppy try to one up a wolf. “Right, Joel?”

“Uh huh.” Whatever that means.

“Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, Mrs. Miller.” Lee crosses into your driveway and you glance briefly at Joel, as if to make sure he isnt going to start growling at the other to stay away. Youre clutching the package to your chest now.

“Have you ever been to a support group for uh- you know, the spouses of addicts? I have a friend from work and shes really struggling.”

Lees tone is sugary sweet, but the fake kind you put in diet soda except that stuff is way better. Joel sighs from the door. You stand there, dumbfounded on the porch steps because what the fuck is he going on about.

You clear your throat, keeping your voice firm. “No. Ive never needed to.”

Joels voice cuts in like a knife. “Been clean for almost twenty years now.”

“Yeah but, you know,” He shrugs, squinting a bit under the morning sun. “Relapses happen.”

Joel and Lee are at a stand still, and the moment Joel lets the arm leaning on the frame drop to his side, you know youre in for a lot of trouble. You move quickly towards the door. “We have to get ready for a- uh- a thing? but Im sorry about your friend.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Miller. Im doing my best to support her.” And before he turns away, he just has to be slimy to you. “If you need someone to talk to, Im here for you.”

“No, that really wont be necess-”

Joels slinging a strong arm around you to yank you back inside before shutting the door.

“Motherfucker,” He hisses to himself, stomping through the walkway and into the kitchen.

“How-” You rub your eyes, letting them adjust to the light inside of the house. You put the package down onto the bar counter that opens up the kitchen and follow Joel to the fridge. “How does he know?? I thought-”

“Been living in this house for decades now,” His expression is tight, brows knitted together while he chugs a bottle of water. “People talk. ‘Specially if I'm being rolled into an ambulance on more than one occasion.” Joel frowns. “Fuck- I shoulda punched him in the fuckin’ face- Do you see how hard he tries so hard to flirt with you infront’a me?”

“I know, love. I was there.” You take the bottle from his hand and set it to the side, then wrap your arms around him. “Try not to let it get to you okay?”

Joel sighs into your hair, giving your body a squeeze. “I know, I know, but jus’ hearin’ him tryin’ta use my baggage to make a pass at you…S’fuckin’ evil.”

“I agree, but I dont want his blood on the driveway.”

“So get it on his driveway instead, got it.”

You giggle and tip your head up to kiss him. The tension eases from Joels shoulders, and he cups your cheeks, letting his worries melt away into your mouth. When the pads of his fingers start to slide under your tank top, youre leaning back. Youll be here for a while if this goes any further.

Joel mindlessly chases your lips, looking a bit pouty now that its over.

“Im gonna start getting ready for the barbecue, okay?”

“This early?”

“I like being punctual.”

“My brother wont give a damn if were late.” He noses your jaw, pressing a kiss here and there. Your knees are beginning to feel weak. The bastard is trying to distract you.

“But I do. The farmers market opened today, and I promised Maria I'd get her fresh strawberries before we got there, remember?”

“Alright, alright.” He grumbles into your shoulder.

Joel lets you go, watching you round the bar counter to get your package and disappear upstairs.

Ever since you came down to a freshly showered Joel, and got into the car with the gift bags you prepared for Maria and Tommy, Hes been staring at you. One wrong move and the drools gonna start pouring out of his mouth.

Your hair is in its relatively natural state, freshly washed and shiny from the oil you put in it. You put on some light makeup, and went a bit heavy handed on the blush to look sunkissed, and topped it off with a flavored lip gloss Joel especially enjoys.

Now, the dress. Its a pink floral mid-length dress, with a low cut sweetheart neckline and a corset style backing to cinch your waist and push out your chest. The material is thick and pretty, and there are two other layers under the skirt to keep its shape. You have on a pair of little pink pumps with little bows to match.

The drive to the farmers market is fairly peaceful, the windows are half down and theres music playing at low volume on the radio. You and Joel have different tastes in music, but one genre you can always agree on is alternative rock.

The weathers beautiful, sun high in the sky, and its not too hot or humid. The day really is perfect. Youre gonna soak up some sun when youre at the barbecue. Hopefully, they made lemonade again too.

Joel has been mostly quiet throughout your shopping. While it would worry some, youve been with him long enough to know that he just has a lot on his mind. What hes thinking about? Maybe youll learn when you make it back home at the end of the day.

You gasp, strolling through the grass to a stand with a mountain of apples. Granny smith, Macintosh, Pink Ladys, Honeycrisp, the works. He grunts, trying to keep the things that are already in your basket steady. You came for strawberries and are going to leave with much more than that.

Joel nudges you softly. “Remember, this is quality stuff, meaning itll go bad faster. Dont get too much.”

“Okay, got it.” You beam, and then begin inspecting the Pink Lady apples first, trying to find the ones with the best color. He keeps the basket within reach so you can drop your picks in.

"These were Sarahs favorites."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, it was funny 'cause we started arguin' over these or Red Delicious. I think Red Delicious is better."

"Thats so cute! Hmm. Should we get one for her? A Pink Lady?"

"Uh," He thinks on it for a moment, unsure, but the smile on your face helps him make a decision. "Sure, why not."

You drop two perfect Pink Ladys into the basket, moving onto the next pile.

“Hey, Joel.” You grin, holding out a wrinkled granny smith apple. “This one looks like you”

“Ha ha.” He deadpans, and grabs it from you to put back. In turn, hes reaching for the runt of the pile. A pathetically small one sitting near the bottom. “Now this one looks like you.”

“Does not!”

“Does too.”

The next stand has golden kiwis, and youre practically dragging Joel forward to try them. You ask for one, and the man at the stand slices it into halves, giving you a plastic spoon to go with.

You let Joel smell it first. “S’good.”

“Lets see if it tastes good.”

You sink your spoon into it, humming when you see how soft and easy it is to scoop out. In your mouth it goes!

Its tastes sweet, a bit mango-y and fucking delicious. You bounce in place, spoon feeding Joel next. “Oh yeah,” He smiles, smacking his lips a bit to really let the taste settle on his tongue. “Were takin’ some of these.”

You take one, then two, then three and four then five and as you reach for the sixth one, Joels stopping you with a gentle hand.

“Darlin’.”

“Right.”

For the next few stands its just you and Joel trying various kinds of fruit. Starfruit, blueberries, some mangos, and then youre going back to the truck.

“I think my favorites were the mangos and golden kiwis. I hope Maria and Tommy have enough space in their fridge for all of this.”

“They moved into a bigger house, I reckon their fridge s’probably bigger, too.”

“What time is it?”

You let go of Joels arm so he can switch the basket from one hand to the other.

“‘Bout…” Hes squinting at his watch. “12:34 in the afternoon.”

“Oh! Guess we got the shopping done sooner than I expected. Hmm. Should we stop somewhere in the mean time?-" You snap your finger when you remember something. "They opened up this cafe that has cats in it! We can drink coffee and play with them for bit! The next fourty-five minutes will go by super fast."

“Youre gonna make Cement jealous.”

You bat your hand dismissively. “Hes not gonna caaare.”

“Oh yes he will. And remind me again why we named our cat Cement?

“Uh, we were both drunk and had gotten him the day before without a name picked out?”

“A whole year later and we still kept it. Worst pet owners ever.” Joel chuckles, opening the passenger door for you like he always does.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

The giant basket of fruit goes into the back seat next to the gift bags before Joel slots himself into the drivers seat.

You fumble with the radio a bit, trying to see what else is on but ultimately landing back on your preferred station. Theyve been playing a lot of Linkin Park recently. Hell yeah. Joel buckles himself in at last, and pulls out of the parking lot.

“Marias gonna teach me how to make baked chicken,” You hum, gazing outside the window.

“You sure youre not jus’ unteachable?”

“Ha ha,” You lightly shove his shoulder, making him smile. “I thought you loved the meat sauce pasta I learned how to make.”

He settles into his seat more comfortably at the stop light, elbow rested on the window. “Got me with that one. Think I like ground turkey over beef, though.”

“Yeah? Me too. The beef tastes better but the turkey is lighter. Stops me from feeling all sick.”

“Agreed.”

Youre looking out the windshield now. Where did all the buildings go? Youre out of the city.

“Uh, Joel?”

“Mm?”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere to kill time.”

“Yeah but where?”

“Youll see.”

Your brows pinch together. “I see a whole lot of nothing except for trees."

“Almost there.”

Joel makes a hasty left turn onto some campgrounds. Your stomach starts to twist into excited knots. Is he gonna show you a baby deer or something? Bunnies? He used to be a park ranger for this area, and would tell you stories about all sorts of baby animals hed run into.

The car comes to a stop, and he turns the engine off. Silence.

“So…Were out in the woods to kill time?”

“Mhm.” Joel unbuckles his seat belt and twists into the back to grab the spare jacket he usually keeps there, then gets out of the truck and comes around the back to open the door for you.

He holds your hand to help you get down from the passenger side, and as soon as both of your shoes hit the ground Joel is on you.

You dont know where your hands should go, youve kissed Joel a thousand times and yet you still get so flustered when he catches you by surprise. You keep your hands on his shoulders for now, letting him press wet kisses to your neck and shoulder.

“This is new right? The dress?” He gives your ass an appreciative squeeze through the fabric. “Thought you looked so pretty when you came down stairs in it.”

Your heads spinning. Something about your dress?

“Woulda been okay if you let me have you earlier.” He pulls away, examining your flushed face cradled by his hand. Every part of you just fits so well in his palms. “Then I thought, why not have you now? We got time to spare.”

“Joel- We- Someone could see us-” You sputter, and Joels already shaking his head with a knowing smirk. He pulls you around to the bed of the truck, popping it open, only pausing to spread open the jacket he grabbed, just having just thrown it in there when he came around to get you.

“No ones gonna come lookin’ for us.” He turns you around, pushing you down onto your front. “As long as youre quiet.”

Fuck. You really hate this game. At least, you like to tell yourself that.

Blood rushes to your ears while Joels rough palms lift up the skirt of your dress, exposing your ass and thighs to the cool air. He whistles from behind you.

“Red lace panties?” His fingers dont shy away from tracing along the fabric covering your cunt. “This new too?”

You crane your neck over your shoulder to look at his face. “Uh.. Surprise?”

Joels smiling now, fingers dipping under the lace. “Thas' awfully sweet of you.”

His touch slips and slides around your growing wetness, then trails down to your clit. Your voice wobbles a bit and fuck- fuck hes going too fast. “Joel- Ah-” You whimper and try to push yourself up to look at him but his hand is steady on your spine, keeping you down.

Smug, “Go on, sweetheart. Keep sayin’ my name. Jus’ like that.”

A whine escapes you when he pulls away, “Nooo.” You push your ass back, as if to entice him. You succeed, because hes skipped his usual routine of fucking you with his hands and is now unbuckling his belt.

Joel rolls you onto your back, and peels your underwear all the way off, bunching it up and shoving it into his back pocket. Your face burns just watching him.

“Think i'll hold onto these for a lil’ while.”

His hands push the back of your knees towards your chest, exposing your heat. Youll never get used to the way he just seems so interested just watching your cunt squeeze around nothing.

“Thats-” You swallow, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. "Joel.”

“Relax." He coos, "Seen it a thousand times already, and ill be seein' it a thousand more. Get used to it, honey.”

Your attention flickers down to where his dick is about to meet your entrance. Joels nudging you down onto your back again and pulling the top of your dress down to expose your chest. Its when youre distracted that he actually moves to push himself in.

Both of you groan together, and Joel could never get bored of fucking you, not when your cunt just pulses around him everytime hes inside you.

Joel wastes no time fucking you once he eases all the way inside. Youre trying your best to keep quiet. Shit is no easy task. Its like Joel is trying to get you guys arrested.

He props himself up with a hand near your head, and lets the other keep one of your legs pinned open. The moans start to claw out of your throat. “Joel- Joel-”

“Shh. Thas’ enough.” He growls through his teeth, fucking you harder. “Youre gonna- Gh- Get us caught-”

Something rustles between the trees, making you both freeze. You clasp your hands over your mouth, watching Joel straighten up to look around.

After a few seconds of squinting, Joel can see a few foxes moving about through the trees. Thank fuck. His shoulders visibly relax.

Hushed, “E-Everything okay?”

“Yeah, jus’ some animals.”

And like that, hes back to it. His dick is going to make your eyes permanently stay rolled into your head.

Joel is always just so handsome when hes pounding into you. His forehead gets shiny with sweat, and his jaw is tight from clenching his teeth, keeping himself quiet so he can focus on your moans. His face is noticeably redder against his usual farmers tan too. Really, hes just so attractive.

A flurry of yes and harder and fuck spills out of your mouth and into your palms. Not too loud, you try to remind yourself.

“Joel- S’too much-”

“Nah, thas’ not it.” He huffs, humorous. “You can take it. Y'always do. In fact, you love gettin’ your cunt bullied by me, aint that right?” As if to get his point across, he thrust in all the way to the hilt, making you keen. You forgot how to breathe, lungs drawing tight in your chest.

"Fuck," You manage to squeeze out.

Your palms push weakly at his shoulders, trying to ground yourself somehow. His head drops to the junction of your neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply.

“You good?” He checks in, breath hot on your skin. As if your crying isnt enough.

“So g-good, Joel- Fuck- Youre so good.”

With a little nod, Joels pushing himself up, switching to slow and deep strokes, really digging himself into you, and trying to find that spot he likes to call home.

He massages your chest, then squeezes your sides and your hips and finally, his thumb finds your clit. Immediately, you jolt.

“Oh fuck-”

“Quiet.” And he says it to keep the charade going, even though his favorite thing is hearing your sobs.

His thumb rubbing incessantly against your that sweet little nub of yours. You choke, and Joels chuckling, watching the way you squirm, body not knowing whether it should lean into his touch because its too good or away because its too much.

It starts with this firey feeling under the pad of his thumb, then deep inside your stuffed cunt. Youre going to cum.

Your hands fly to your mouth again, and you get all wide eyed from the sensation. Its cute. Your muscles pull taut, legs locking around Joels hips. Youre wailing into your palm when it happens.

“Good girl,” His voice soothes you through it. “Very good.”

He pets away the fly aways sticking to your sweaty face when its over. Your eyes drop shut while you catch your breath.

Joels moving again now. He rolls his hips a few times, and thumb is building the foundation of another orgasm in you. Youre shaking badly.

Your words slur too, “Cant- Too soon- Joel- Joel-”

“Another one.” Joel says firmly, but breathless.

Youre gasping, not sure where to focus your eyes. The trees around you look like theyre spinning. Your attention is back on Joel, whos looking rather satisfied watching you squirm and cry. If thats how wants to play, then fine.

Your hands slide up Joels biceps, and rests on the nap of his neck to bring him down. “Juh-Joel,” You pant, cradling his face with both hands. “Youre so good- The best-”

Oh, Joel likes that one, you can tell by the way he looks away briefly. Shyness. Excitement runs up your spine. Joel loves being told hes doing well.

“You are- Nghh-” You swallow the drool in your mouth, trying to get the words out clearly. “The best husband I could ever ask for.”

Joel wheezes, head dropping into the curve of your shoulder. “Please.”

“S’true,” You nod rapidly, fingers curling into his hair. “Youre so good to me and-and youre mine and- Joel- Im yours.”

“Jesus-” He groans, soaking up the feeling of you pressing kisses to his face and up his jaw.

“Hhah- No one else can have me, okay? No one- Not even-”

The name doesnt even come out of your mouth before Joels coming to a stop to slip his arms all the way around your middle. With the new leverage he has on your body, hes drilling his way into you. You fucking squeal, rules now long forgotten. Youre a useless ragdoll in his arms and he wouldnt have it any other way.

Your lips are shiny with spit and left over lip gloss, and he can still taste the mintiness in his tongue. Every now and again your eyes drop shut, but his dick just punches into your guts a little harder. Look at me.

Your brain is mush, just the way he likes it, and youre perfectly pliant in his arms, babbling over how good you feel. Hes kisses along the valley of your breasts now, stopping to suck the flesh of your nipples.

Youre just so pretty. Even when you have bedhead, or youre snotty from a cold, or youre all dirty from working in the garden youre still so pretty. Including now, all sweaty with you lipgloss all smudged and your mascara starting to run. Youre perfect.

Joel grunts loud, jaw clenched tight as he gets lost in the feeling of your insides. His perfect little wife.

When he cums, hes doubling over with a loud grunt, getting a few last thrusts in before his spent floods your cunt.

Youre blinking away your tears, now watching the clouds inch along the sky. It really is a beautiful day. You pet Joels sweaty hair, and kiss the side of his temple. Your core throbs faintly. Jesus, he did a number on you.

“Love,” You say softly, patting his back.

“Mm?”

“Get up.” Another pat. “Youre squishing me.”

Joel backs off to buckle himself up, but you stay seated to catch your breath and adjust your dress. At least it didnt get ripped during all the… Commotion. Not like last time.

“I need my underwear back.”

“Nope,”

“Joel.”

He kisses the center of your forehead and helps you down from the bed and into the passenger seat instead. “Told you i'm keepin’ ‘em.”

You sputter, “I cant go to barbecue commando!”

“Sure you can.” He pops open the glove compartment and gets out some tissues, hand snaking under your dress again to clean you. You sigh softly at the sensation.

“Youre the worst.”

“I am indeed the worst.” Joel pulls the seatbelt over your chest and clicks it in. “You can tell me all about it on the way to Tommys.”

#joel miller #the last of us #hbo joel miller #the last of us part 1 #the last of us season one #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller x you #fanfic #mocha writes #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal #modern au #smut fic #might cross post to ao3 idk...#pleeaaaase tell me if u guys like this #glaze me glaze me glaze me #Lie 2 me and say u love it...

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janiehellion · 5 months ago

Text

Wildflower Woes

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Daryl Dixon hates you. Or does he? And do you only love the flowers that grow in your own garden, or do you love the wild ones too? Because with eyes watching in the darkness of the night, nothing is ever quite as it seems.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: S1!DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / HURT / ANGST / VOYEURISM / MASTURBATION / EXHIBITIONISM / DUB-CON / LANGUAGE / CUM PLAY / SEMI-PUBLIC

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8.000

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: NON-CON ELEMENTS

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

As you walked behind Daryl, your eyes drifted from the road ahead to the ground beside your feet, where something caught your eye and distracted you rather fast from everything else around you—a bunch of wildflowers that had bloomed along the side of the road. They were not only the kind you’ve always loved, but they were also a small reminder of what life really was like not so long ago.

Without a second thought, you decided to step off the path, with your fingers reaching out instinctively to touch the nearest blossom in silent admiration.

"They’re still so beautiful, despite everything," you whispered quietly to yourself, not wanting Daryl to hear what you were saying. "I remember how I always thought these were just pretty-looking weeds as a kid because Mom and Dad always had them everywhere in our garden. God, I miss them so much."

Kneeling down beside the flowers, you allowed yourself a quiet moment of peace, thinking back to a few weeks ago when everything was still normal. To those weekends gardening with your mom while your dad cut the lawn or filmed you and your mother to capture memories for the future. The time when your parents were still alive.

But that short moment of peace was quickly shattered by an all-too-familiar sound that made your heart skip a beat and sent a shiver through your body. Spinning around, your eyes locked on the rotting figure of a walker emerging from behind a tree, and panic flooded your mind.

"Shit!" You screamed, stumbling backward and falling hard onto the ground, and in your desperate attempt to avoid being bitten, you reached for your weapon, only to realize the handle was tangled with the strap of your backpack. Despair washed over you as the walker got closer, its hands reaching out to dig its fingers into your flesh.

Just then, Daryl heard your scream. He spun around, his crossbow aimed at the walker, and in the blink of an eye, the creature dropped dead at your feet with a bolt in its head.

"What in the hell were ya doin'?" Daryl shouted, his face full of anger as he rushed over.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stumbled to your feet, your voice trembling. "I… I just noticed the flowers! I’ve always liked flowers and these—"

"Flowers? Ya nearly got yerself killed over some damn flowers?" His eyes narrowed in frustration.

Daryl’s voice was bitter, full of anger, as he grabbed your arm and pulled you roughly back onto the road. Before you could react, he stomped his boot into the patch of flowers, grinding them into the dirt in front of your eyes.

"Can't believe ya'd risk yer life for this bullshit!" He said, as he pulled his bolt out of the walker and walked back to you again.

His grip on your arm tightened, and he yanked you forward. "Look at ya," he growled, full of disgust. "Ya think this is some kinda shitty garden party? We're fightin' to survive, and yer out here actin' like a pussy over a bunch of fuckin' flowers! ‘S that what's gonna save us? A fuckin' bouquet?"

His words made you flinch, and you were unable to hold back the tears that had already formed in your eyes. When you looked back up, Daryl's face was only inches from yours.

"Oh, look at ya, so delicate and pure!" He taunted with disdain. "Yeah… Ya gonna stop this shitshow with a bouquet, huh? Gonna wave 'em around and make all the walkers bow down to yer flowery grace? What’s next, princess? A fuckin’ garden gnome to guard the damn camp?"

You tried to steady your voice, fighting back your sobs. "Listen, Daryl… Thank you for saving me, really! But I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble! I just... I just wanted a moment of beauty that reminded me of—"

"A moment of beauty? Ya think yer gonna find some happy endin' in the middle of all this shit? It's like yer livin' in a fuckin' fantasy! Newsflash: This ain’t a damn fairy tale!" Daryl cut you off with a mocking laugh.

He stepped closer, invading your personal space. "Oh, I see. Ya got this big-ass plan, don't ya? Ya gonna sprinkle some petals ‘round and charm all the dead assholes with yer pretty flowers, huh? Hell, why not add a unicorn that shits glitter while yer at it?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but his insults didn't even give you a chance. "Oh, wait, I got it! Ya gonna build a fairyland where everything is perfect and we all live happily ever after! Ya gonna knit a quilt with flowers on it, and everyone will forget 'bout the damn world fallin' apart! That’s yer big-ass plan, ain't it?"

Listening to him, you struggled more and more to hold back your sobs, but you finally found the confidence to respond. "That's not true! And I didn’t say that. I just thought—"

"Thought what?" Daryl interrupted again, his voice almost yelling in anger. "Ya think that’s gonna change anything? Get real! Out here, ya don't get to have yer shitty moments of peace. Ya either get yer head outta yer ass or ya die!"

He shook his head, scoffing at you. "Tell me! What’s next, huh? Ya gonna start singin' lullabies to the walkers? Maybe ya should bake ‘em some cookies and ask ‘em to join the damn camp," he spat out, finally turning away and leaving you standing in the middle of the road, knowing that you’d follow him one way or another.

And you did.

Aside from Daryl's few mutterings of frustration, the walk back to the camp was quiet. He didn’t offer you an apology, nor did he ask why you seemed so fascinated by those wildflowers in the first place. Instead, he simply continued to walk ahead, throwing you angry sidelong glances from time to time, while his annoyed curses and angry mumblings barely reached your ears anymore.

You allowed the minutes to pass, and just as you were beginning to accept being his supply run partner a little bit more, Daryl's voice was heard again. "Quit yer damn whinin'! Pretty flowers ain't gonna keep ya alive!" he said, his anger not yet gone. "All this fuckin' bullshit just makes ya look weak! Ain't nobody got time for that. Ya gotta get that into yer head!"

He looked ahead, and with a sudden, quick move, he lifted his boot and stomped down on another few wildflowers growing along the side of the road. Your jaw dropped in disbelief, and your eyes widened in shock and hurt. The purpose behind it—to obviously hurt you—only made you clench your fists tighter, your nails digging into your palms.

But you stayed silent; the last thing you wanted was to give him any more reason to bully you and to fuel his anger. Instead, you focused on keeping your breathing steady, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you continued to follow behind him.

As you both finally approached the quarry, Daryl’s anger reached its breaking point, and in a rather sudden decision, he stormed off the path, disappearing into the woods without another word and taking the rest of the supplies with him.

"Yeah, yeah, run away, you fucking dickhead," you whispered to yourself before putting the backpack down next to the RV. "What a damn idiot! Just because he’s got a stick up his ass doesn’t mean he is allowed to shit on everything that others care about. He thinks he’s so tough, but he’s just an asshole who’s always acting like he’s the only one who matters around here! And here I was, thinking I might actually like him and have a soft spot for him. Guess I was just kidding myself. What a fucking joke!" You continued and let the sadness come out quietly as you were left standing alone.

"Can’t believe he thinks this is some kind of, I don't know, redneck survival training. ‘Oh, look at me, I’m so tough! I’ll just destroy whatever makes you happy!’ Well, newsflash to you too, Dixon: You’re not the only one who’s capable of surviving! Jesus…"

The sudden sound of footsteps approaching stopped your rant, and you turned to see Dale walking towards you with a look of concern. "Hey there," he said with a smile, taking the backpack into his hands. "You look like you’ve had a rough time out there today. Is everything okay? Where’s Daryl Dixon?"

You hesitated for a moment, the situation that has happened before making it hard for you to find the right words. Finally, you sighed and responded.

"I couldn’t give less of a fuck where that man is right now! I mean, listen, Daryl’s been—well, he’s been a jerk, like always. He got mad about a few pretty flowers that I found. You know, the wild ones that I showed you the other day when you were talking with Shane? Well, Daryl ended up stomping all over them because he had to save me from a walker, since the flowers distracted me and nearly got me killed. And now he’s just gone off into the woods without a word. He even took the rest of the supplies we’ve found with him. Can you believe that, Dale?"

"Oh, yes, I do remember the flowers; very nice to look at. My wife would’ve loved them as well, believe me," Dale’s eyes studied you as he listened to you, trying to understand what had happened, "but I’m sorry to hear about what has happened. Sure, Daryl’s got a lot of—let’s call it rough and tough edges. But I’m sure he’ll be back soon with the supplies; don’t you worry about that."

His words and warm smile helped to calm you down a little. "Yeah, I guess you’re right," you sighed, feeling a little better. "Thanks, Dale. I just needed to let off some steam. And maybe Daryl's right, some of those flowers weren’t meant to survive this cruel world…"

Dale nodded once more but looked slightly concerned because of your answer, though he decided not to address it, nor did he press any further. "Anytime. Now, let’s get these supplies sorted. I bet that Daryl will calm down soon enough as well."

You couldn't help but laugh at the thought. "Yeah, maybe. And pigs might fly too."

Soon enough, you were busy sorting the supplies when you heard footsteps approaching again. This time, it was Daryl who did come back from the woods, but his face showed that he was still annoyed.

"Here," he snapped, tossing his bag of supplies onto the ground. "Forgot to leave 'em here. Don’t expect any flowers or fairy dust."

You looked up from the supplies, sighing loudly. "Yeah, thanks," you answered quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. "I guess it’s good you’re back. The camp needs those supplies."

Daryl’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Ya know, if ya spent less time daydreamin' and more time focusin' on what’s important, then we wouldn’t have to deal with this shit."

"Is that so?" You shot back, struggling to stay calm. "And what exactly is ‘important’ to you, Daryl? Destroying everything that reminds people of normalcy?"

He snorted at you. "Normalcy? Ain’t no such thing in this world no more. If ya can’t handle that, maybe ya should stay behind."

His words hurt, but you forced yourself not to fuel his anger. "Well, maybe if you weren’t so hell-bent on destroying everything that might still matter to others, you’d see that sometimes people need a bit of hope, however small."

Daryl stared you down. "Hope? Hope won’t keep ya alive. Only havin' a pair of balls and havin’ a clear head will do that. And from where I stand, ya got none of that."

"I guess we’ve all got our own way of coping with this new world," you said quietly, not really knowing what to answer him anymore.

His eyes studied you. "Copin'? Ya think I’m just ‘copin'’ here? I’m tryna keep us alive, and all ya do is mess 'round with flowers like it’s some kind of goddamn gardenin' hobby."

You took a deep breath. "I’m just trying to hold on to a bit of what makes me human. I know it might seem pointless to you at the moment, but those flowers... they remind me of something good, something that I miss."

Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Well, good for ya. Maybe ya can save the world with yer damn flowers, while the rest of us are riskin' our asses."

Before you could respond, Andrea approached you, having overheard the conversation. "Hey, is everything alright?" She asked, her eyes looking from you to Daryl.

"Just a little disagreement," you answered, forcing a smile. "Nothing we can’t handle."

Daryl took a step back and shook his head. "Yeah, well, I’m done wastin' my time here. Gonna get some rest."

As he walked away, Andrea rolled her eyes and turned to you with a smile. "Don’t let him get to you. He's an asshole. But you’re doing the right thing by holding on to what makes you feel human. You’ll get used to him eventually."

Later that evening, as the campfire was burning down slowly and the rest of the group went to go to sleep after their meal, you sat quietly on the side, lost in your thoughts. Daryl had withdrawn from the group, sitting alone by a tree as he stared into the flames from afar. Eventually, you stood up and walked off to your tent, but the next morning, a flower appeared by the entrance, carefully placed where it was visible but not too obvious.

"Is he for real?" You said to yourself, not really sure why he'd even continue to make fun of you like this in the first place.

While you were helping with camp chores a short time later, you spotted Jacqui kneeling by the water, washing the clothes. Taking the chance to get some answers, you approached her.

"Hey, Jacqui," you began, trying to sound neutral. "I found this wildflower in front of my tent. Any idea who might be leaving them? I don't know if Andrea told you, but I had a problem with Daryl yesterday, and I thought he left the flower there just to keep on making fun of me."

"Of course Andrea told me, how come you think she wouldn’t? You can’t keep secrets around here!" Jacqui looked up, laughing out loud. "But come on, are you for real? You think it was Daryl Dixon? Really? Come on, that's too funny."

You blinked, taken aback by her reaction. "Wait, you think it’s funny that I’m even considering Daryl after him acting like a total dickhead? I just thought—"

Jacqui laughed again, shaking her head. "Oh, come on. Daryl? Why should he continue to make fun of you like that? I mean, I wouldn’t put it past him to throw a beer can at your head, or leave a skinned squirrel in front of your tent or even under your pillow, but flowers? You're overthinking things. Honestly, I'd bet it's Shane."

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. "Shane? Seriously? That’s what you think? But Daryl literally bullied me because of them."

Jacqui stood up, stretching her arms. "So, what? I’m just saying that sometimes it’s better not to overthink things, especially when it comes to the Dixon brothers. There's nothing that'd benefit him in mocking you any further. Anyway, I’ve got clothes to get back to." With that, Jacqui wandered off, leaving you confused and a bit embarrassed.

"Hey! It’s not like I expect him to start a flower shop anytime soon, okay? It’s just super weird!" You shouted after her, shaking your head slightly, before you caught sight of Daryl from a distance, kneeling over his crossbow. The sight of him—mumbling to himself and clearly busy with whatever he was doing—irritated you, and you decided it was time to confront him directly.

"Daryl, can we talk for a second?" You finally asked and approached him hesitantly.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. "Whaddaya want, woman?"

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady despite the frustration you felt about him still being angry with you. "I found this flower this morning. Right by my tent."

"Yeah? And what’s that gotta do with me?" Daryl’s eyes narrowed, his tone defensive.

"I just thought that maybe you’d know something about it. I mean, I didn’t think it was a coincidence, since the flower is like the same from—" You started, but he didn't let you finish.

"Hell, I dunno nothin’ ‘bout those damn flowers. Ya think I’m runnin’ ‘round playin’ flower fairy for ya now or what? It wasn't me. Keep dreamin'," Daryl cut you off, his jaw tightening.

His voice was harsh, his tone dismissive. "Just stop pissin’ me off; yer just lookin’ too much into shit. It’s just flowers. Quit tryna make somethin’ outta nothin’."

Your frustration was growing, and you took a step closer. "I’m just trying to understand. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to understand something. Look, it doesn’t make sense for this flower to just—"

Before you could finish, Daryl cut you off again. "Hell, just drop it! Got enough problems without ya comin’ at me with this bullshit. Ain’t in the mood for yer crap no more."

Just then, Shane appeared with a wide smile on his face. "Hey there," he said, leaning against a nearby tree. "I couldn’t help but notice you looking a bit stressed. You up for some fishing? Could use some company, if you’re interested, that is."

You glanced between Shane’s big smile and Daryl’s scowling face, and with a small nod, you agreed. "Yeah, that actually sounds nice. I could definitely use a break right now. And it’d be nice to eat some fish every now and then."

Shane’s smile widened. "Perfect! We’ll have a great time, I’m sure of it; even if we don’t catch anything, it’ll still be fun. I’ll go get everything ready and come back to get you when I’m done."

"Why don’t ya both just try to drown while fishin’ then? I’m sure ya’d both do a great job at it," Daryl suddenly mumbled, turning back to his bag.

"Excuse me? What was that? What did you just say?" You asked, trying to keep your voice calm, but your confusion was obvious as you watched Shane walk away. "And what the hell are you even doing there in the first place, Daryl?"

"None of yer damn business," he snapped back at you with annoyance. "Maybe ya should spend less time bein’ a pain in the ass and more time doin’ somethin’ useful. Like catchin’ more than just one damn pitiful fish with that Romeo ya got over there."

You shook your head, feeling your frustration boil over. "You think you’re the only one who cares about survival? We’re all trying to get by, Daryl. But as a team! Together, as a group of survivors! And you? You’re just being an asshole."

Daryl’s gaze hardened. "Oh, that so? And what’s yer excuse for bein’ a pathetic, whiny mess? Thinkin’ yer entitled to shit? Get over yerself."

Before you could respond, Shane reappeared with some of the fishing gear. He then noticed Daryl’s bag next to his crossbow and raised an eyebrow. "Thistles? What the hell are you gonna do with thistles, Dixon? Prick us to death?"

"Guess we’ll be havin’ a fancy-ass thistle salad for dinner. Real gourmet shit," Daryl answered sarcastically. "Ya can eat parts of 'em, if ya so keen on knowin', but I bet ya knew that already, ain’t that so officer fancy-pants?"

Shane’s face turned serious as he glanced between you and Daryl. "Dixon, you got a problem with something? ‘Cause you’re acting like a real jackass for no goddamn reason at all!"

Daryl turned back to his bag. "Nah, just tired of watchin’ ya’ll pretend to be so high and mighty. Don’t need no charity fishin’ trip from ya, Shane."

Shane’s jaw clenched slightly, but he tried to sound calm. "Funny, Daryl, really funny. Maybe you should take a look at yourself before you start a fight you can’t win."

Daryl’s expression grew darker. "Ain’t here to be ya damn buddy, Walsh. Got my own shit to deal with, so why don’t ya just keep yer damn opinions to yerself?"

"Alright, alright. You do you, Dixon," Shane answered, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile as he looked at you again. "Come on, let's go fishing then; I’ll ask Jim to be on the lookout in the meantime."

You watched Shane walk away, then turned back to Daryl, who was now looking at the thistles in his bag.

"Great, really great. That went well," you sighed, shaking your head, but Daryl didn’t respond and instead continued to fumble with the thistles. You soon walked away, joining Shane by the water.

"Let’s get this set up," he said, handing you a fishing rod. "We might as well make the best of it."

As the time went by, the conversation drifted to other topics. Shane talked about his past life, even sharing police stories that made you smile despite yourself.

"Thanks for this," you soon said. "It’s nice to get away from the group a little, even if it isn’t far, and just... be."

Shane nodded, focusing on his line. "Yeah, I figured you could use a break. Daryl’s got a way of being a pain in the ass."

"I guess that’s one way to put it," you laughed back. “But he isn’t the only one around who isn’t very great to get along with. The real pain in the ass around here is Ed, and that’s a fact.”

“Ed, yeah, don’t remind me. But you do realize that talking about Ed would be a pain in the ass just as much, don’t you think?” He smirked, casting his line again. "But speaking of Dixon, you know, it’s actually funny. Because I’ve seen that asshole sneaking around your tent more than once. Creepy as hell if you ask me."

You blinked at him in surprise. "Wait, wait, wait... What are you talking about? What do you mean? Daryl Dixon? What? When?"

Shane shrugged casually. "Well, I’ve already seen him lurking around your tent when you first got here weeks ago, like he’s some kind of damn stalker. Even seen him hide behind some of the cars at night. Also quite funny, because Jim was the one who caught him near the RV first, since he’s more or less the mechanic around here. Did you know that being an auto mechanic was Jim’s job? Who would’ve guessed?"

You frowned at him, processing this new information. "Shane, could you please stop trying to change the damn topic for a moment? This isn’t about Jim right now! Just tell me if you’re serious about Daryl sneaking around my tent!"

"Relax, relax! But yeah," Shane laughed and shook his head. "I mean, Daryl’s always been a bit of a freak, but that... that was something else. Fucking creep."

You bit your lip, feeling confused. "I don’t know, Shane. I mean, sure, he’s rough around the edges, like Dale pointed out before too, but..."

"But? But what?" Shane asked, raising an eyebrow.

You hesitated, then sighed. "It’s a little stupid, okay? But when I first got here, I kind of had a fleeting thing for him. But not for long; I mean, I didn’t know anybody around here; you were all just strangers, so of course I didn’t know what he’s actually like."

Shane’s face quickly showed disbelief and a bit of anger. "You’re shitting me, right? That piece of shit who literally told us to drown? You had a crush on him?"

You shook your head, feeling quite embarrassed. "No, listen, it wasn’t exactly a crush! Please, don't call it a crush, okay? I simply thought there was more to him, you know? Maybe under all that anger, there’s someone who… cares."

Shane shook his head, his jaw clenched so tight that you could see his muscles twitch while he was gritting his teeth. "You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. That hillbilly dipshit? He doesn’t care about anyone but himself, just like his brother Merle. And now he’s got you thinking he’s some kind of misunderstood hero? That piece of shit couldn’t even fit into the anti-hero category if he wanted to! I already told Lori and Carol to keep Carl and Sophia away from him and his brother! Because they’re both a bad influence!"

"It’s not like that, Shane! I know he’s very difficult, but..." You started, but he cut you off once more.

"But nothing!" Shane snapped. "God, you sound just like Dale! Please now, just listen to me. You deserve better than that. Someone who actually gives a damn about you. Not some freaking weirdo who creeps around your tent at night. I know that I should’ve told you sooner, and I’m sorry. But you think Daryl’s going to change just because Merle’s probably dead? Nah. He’s just going to keep treating you and all of us like shit. But I’m here, and I actually care about you and the rest of us. And I did care right from the start."

You shook your head, feeling overwhelmed by his words. "Shane, please, this really is turning into an awkward conversation right now. I just need some time to think and not a motivational coach with a shotgun and a fishing rod."

"Fine. But just remember what I said. Daryl’s not the guy you think he is." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "And you know what? The two of you are a perfect pair of fuckin’ clichés. The tough redneck guy and the naive dreamer princess. It’s pathetic."

You hesitated, unsure of how to continue the conversation. "Okay, okay, I got it! Stop! I meant to ask you a different question anyway! About a flower I found by my tent. Did you leave it there for me?"

Shane shook his head. "Me? Leaving you a flower? No. Don’t have time for that. I have to keep this group safe, after all."

You sighed, feeling a bit of relief. "I know, I know, it's just that... Jacqui thought it might've been you. Guess she was wrong."

Shane shrugged nonchalantly, not wanting to talk any further. "Yeah, well, let’s just finish up here and head back."

A short time later, you and Shane packed up your gear and headed back to the camp, where the rest of the group, apart from Daryl, was already sitting around the campfire and talking. about the usual things, all the while you couldn’t stop thinking about what Shane had told you as you stared into the fire.

And as the night finally fell over the Atlanta camp, Daryl found himself in the shadows and lost in thought. He had withdrawn from the group throughout the rest of the day, thinking about how Shane and your fishing trip had annoyed him and left him feeling more than just pissed.

He moved quietly through the trees, his steps almost making little to no sound while his mind was full of conflicting thoughts, each one more chaotic than the last. He was still angry with himself over everything that had happened—his rage towards you, Shane’s arrogant attitude, and his own pushed-away emotions that he couldn't really ignore.

Standing by the edge of your tent, he looked around to make sure he was alone and out of sight before he crouched down, pulling out a small bundle from his pocket—another wildflower, the exact kind that you liked so much.

"Fuckin' ridiculous," he mumbled to himself and snorted. "Here I am, sneakin' 'round like some kind of goddamn lunatic."

He put it gently on the ground, just near the entrance of your tent, where you had to notice it one way or another. His fingers moved along the petals of the flower as if it could somehow help him feel better with his guilt. "Goddamn it, Daryl," he whispered to himself. "Ya really fucked it all up, like ya always do. Stompin' on 'em flowers like a fuckin' idiot. What were ya even thinkin'?"

His eyes narrowed as he remembered how he had responded and how he had used his insults and rage to try to push you away. "Ya didn’t mean it," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Ya were just so pissed off. Shane’s up her ass all day, and ya had to be the one who’s had to do somethin'. Hell, she's gonna think it was him now anyway, with the way he’s been actin' 'round her, that's for damn sure."

He stood up, avoiding stepping on the flower. "But ya know what? It ain’t 'bout him. 'S 'bout yerself, ya fuckin' idiot. Ya can’t just keep watchin' her and expectin' her to see ya for the piece of shit ya really are."

He looked around when he heard a noise, seeing you coming from a distance, and quickly moved to hide behind a nearby tree. His heart was racing in his chest; adrenaline and shame were rushing through his body, but he couldn’t let you see him; he couldn’t let you know that he was here, after all.

Daryl crouched down low, pressing his back against the bark of the tree he was leaning against. "Every damn night," he whispered quietly, "watchin’ her shadow. Shit, she doesn’t know. Fuckin’ hell, if she knew... I’m a goddamn creep. But I can’t stop. I just—I need to see her. Need to know she’s there."

His eyes followed you as you got closer, but he didn’t move. He was observing you and watching to see if you would notice the flower immediately, or if you wouldn’t until the next morning.

"She’s gotta know it’s me," Daryl thought, his mind racing and his body beginning to sweat all of a sudden. "She’s suspicious already. Can’t let her know the real reason why. She’d hate me for it."

His knuckles went white as he clenched his fists tightly. "I’m a fuckin’ idiot. That’s what I am. Tryin’ to make it right with damn flowers, but I’m still the asshole who’s watchin’ her like a damn perv. She’s got no idea," he whispered to himself again. "No fuckin’ clue what’s really goin’ on. Hell, if anyone 'round here knew, they’d run me outta camp. Can’t have that. Don’t want her to know; don’t want anyone to know."

"Why’d ya let things go this far?" He continued to tell himself. "Why’d ya let yerself get so fuckin' close to her? Ya think she’s gonna understand why yer such a fuckin' creep? Fuck, think again."

As you opened your tent, Daryl's eyes were watching you with nervousness. Even though he knew it was wrong, he was unable to accept the fact that he had been watching you most of the time at night, unable to take his eyes off your tent.

"Ain't gonna make excuses," he muttered. "Been an asshole, and I know it. Been watchin' her—sometimes even more than I should. Fuckin' hate myself for it. Every damn time I see her, she reminds me that I’m a damn bastard, and I can’t stand it."

Thoughts of how he had treated you kept coming back again and again to his mind. "I act like I don’t give a shit, but I do. Hell, I care more than I wanna admit. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so goddamn hard on her. Dunno. Maybe I thought it’d keep me from feelin'... this way."

Daryl stayed right where he was, watching you leave your tent open as you eventually got inside. "Fuck," he whispered to himself. "This ain't right. She deserves better than this. Deserves someone who’s not a fuckin' creep. Can’t help it. I keep comin' back here, leavin' these stupid fuckin' flowers, hopin' she might see some part of me that’s not completely fucked up."

He sighed, feeling his thoughts pressing down on him. "Yer a mess, Dixon. And ya know it. Yer leavin' flowers to try to make up for yer own damn behavior, and it ain't ever gonna be enough."

Upon entering your tent, you did notice the flower that was lying by the entrance. In fact, the flower was too familiar, and the thought of Daryl lurking around nearby made you shiver, but you didn’t acknowledge the flower directly. Rather, you purposefully chose to ignore it because Shane's remarks regarding Daryl had made you feel a little uneasy, which you could not quite shake, but it also somehow excited you to no end.

"Alright, let’s make this good, and let’s see if he really is sneaking around here," you then murmured to yourself with a smirk on your lips as you thought about your plan. "I’m gonna give him a show he won’t forget anytime soon."

You began to undress slowly, your fingers sliding over your skin as you glanced at the open gap of the tent, a deliberate choice to keep it ajar.

"Is this what you want, Daryl?" You whispered to yourself as you pulled off your shirt and slid your jeans down. "Do you want to see me like this?"

With every piece of clothing that you let fall to the ground, the blush on your cheeks turned redder. The thought of him possibly watching you from the shadows, all hidden and quiet, made you shiver with excitement and nervousness, because of the other dangers that might be hidden in the shadows. “Don’t think about anything else right now; I’m safe. I’m safe.”

Your fingers fumbled with the hooks of your bra, and you let it fall from your shoulders before you squeezed your breasts with your hands, the feeling of your fingertips brushing over your hardening nipples making you moan. "Look at me," you murmured, "see how I’m touching myself, how I’m getting so fucking wet because of you right now."

Your hand slid down your stomach, your fingers sliding into your panties, with the wetness of your pussy making you gasp as you started to rub your clit in slow circles. "You like this, don’t you? Watching me at night, knowing I’m thinking of you?"

You soon pulled your panties down your legs and tossed them aside, showing yourself off completely before you laid down and spread your legs, giving a full view of your wet pussy. With two fingers, you traced the outer folds before slipping them inside, letting out a quiet moan. "I know you’re out there," you whispered, "watching every fucking move I make."

As you began to fuck yourself slowly, your other hand continued to pinch and tease your nipples. "I can almost feel your eyes on me," you mumbled, "watching as I fuck myself. Is it turning you on, Daryl? I bet you're already so fucking hard."

You added another finger inside, curling them slightly to stretch yourself more and tease your G-spot with each thrust. "I bet you’re dying to feel what this is like," you taunted quietly, "to be so so fucking deep inside me right here, right now."

Your fingers moved faster, your hips moving in time with the thrusts of your fingers, and you were already getting closer to the edge just by thinking about the fact that Daryl was probably watching you. "I bet you’re imagining how fucking tight I’d be around you," you moaned. "I know you’re just as fucking turned on as I am."

Among the trees, Daryl remained hidden in the shadows. His eyes were locked on you, unable to look away even as his heart pounded violently in his chest. The way your fingers moved over your breasts, the playful, almost desperate way you touched your hard nipples—it drove him wild, and the image of you parting your pussy and pushing your fingers into yourself was nearly unbearable. Every little movement you made seemed to burn itself into his mind.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he mumbled while his gaze shifted a bit as he attempted to stand up from his position without making a sound. He forced himself to remain motionless, but his hand went almost automatically to his zipper.

The simple sight of you, all naked, completely defenseless, and so vulnerable, was making him lose his mind. He could see how your body tensed and arched with every touch, and his eyes tracked every movement of your fingers as they slid in and out of your pussy.

"Fuck, not again; why’m I doin' this?" Daryl grumbled to himself, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock inside his pants. "This ain’t right. She’s right there, and I’m just—fuck!"

He glanced down at his own body, his cock pushing hard against his pants. It wasn't easy to ignore the pulsing need that was building up inside him—a need that seemed to only grow with every quiet moan you let out. His heart was racing, and he could feel the sweat starting to run down his forehead.

Daryl’s fingers fumbled with the zipper of his pants; he was trying to calm himself down at first, but the sight of you getting yourself off was making it nearly impossible to think straight. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," he muttered again, struggling to keep his breathing steady. "Ya can’t just give in. Not yet. Ya gotta keep control."

He watched you spread your legs wider, your fingers moving faster now, and it was all he could do to keep himself from making any noise. His eyes locked onto the way your body responded—how your hips bucked with each thrust of your fingers.

"Look at her. She’s so fuckin' beautiful," Daryl let out quietly. "So damn hot, and here I am, just watchin'. Like some sick fuckin' perv."

With a quiet, frustrated growl, he tried to regain control of himself, his hands clenching more tightly. Even though his cock was begging for attention, he was unable to let himself go.

"Keep it together, Dixon," he told himself, his voice trembling. "Yer not gonna just—give in. Not yet. Not like this. She’s... she’s right there. Goddamn it! Fuck!"

But Daryl's control was breaking fast, each breath that he took only making it harder to keep his impulses in check, and it was pushing him past the point of no return. The temptation was just too great, and he couldn't control himself any longer. His hands, which had been clenched tightly into fists, now finally moved to undo the zipper of his pants.

His cock sprang free, the sight of it being so hard making him shudder, and the moment his hand wrapped around it, he let out a quiet groan.

"Goddamn it," he mumbled, his voice full of frustration and lust as he started to stroke himself slowly. "She's gonna fuckin' kill me."

He couldn’t help but imagine your hands being on him—almost in the same way that you were touching yourself. He could hear your every moan, every breath, every whimper, and it only made him grip his cock tighter, his strokes becoming faster and more needy.

"I bet ya like that, don’t ya?" He grumbled to himself. "I bet ya fuckin' know I’m here."

It was impossible for him to ignore how badly he wanted to be the one touching you, to be the one making you sigh and moan for him.

"Jesus," he panted out and gasped. "Ya just keep fuckin' doin’ that, don’t ya, princess? Fuckin' hell..."

Struggling to remain silent, his free hand felt for the tree next to him, and he pressed it against the bark to steady himself. Though he was getting close to the edge and the tip of his cock was coated with pre-cum, he was determined not to cum just yet.

"Damn it, Dixon," he hissed at himself. "Look at ya, gettin' off to this all over again. Yer a fuckin' mess. Fuckin' pathetic."

There was still a part of him that wanted to stop, and he battled the shame and guilt that was building up and rising within him. But as your moans grew slightly louder and as you suddenly whispered his name into the darkness, it only pushed him further into his own desperate need.

"Hell’s she sayin'?" Daryl mumbled to himself, his eyes narrowing as he tried to focus and concentrate on your voice. "Shit, she’s sayin' my fuckin' name..."

The sound of his name on your lips, even if it was only a silent whisper, made his cock twitch and pulse, and his strokes became more urgent with the intense need to finally cum.

"Fuckin' hell," he growled, his breathing coming out even more uneven. "She's gonna make me lose my shit. Just... just keep talkin', princess."

The way you were saying his name, the thought of you knowing he was watching, made it impossible for him to stay still. Finally, he couldn’t resist any longer. He stepped closer, his throbbing cock in hand, and let out a growl to make you notice him as he slipped inside your tent. "Ya really thought ya could just tease me like this?"

With your fingers still buried deep inside of you, your eyes snapped open. "Daryl?" Even though you knew that he was watching you, you let out a gasp, and your voice trembled slightly.

"Yeah," he said, taking another step closer. There was something else that turned him on even more than just the shock he could see in your eyes. "Thought ya could put on a private show for me, huh?"

You swallowed hard, your eyes never leaving his as he stood directly over you, his cock still hard and pulsing with every stroke of his hand. "A show?" You asked, your voice sounding a little shaky.

"Damn right. A show," he answered with a small smirk. "With me seein’ everythin'. Couldn’t stay away."

You pulled your fingers out of your pussy and tried to stand up, but Daryl pushed you back down with one of his boots on your shoulder. "Stay where ya are," he growled. "Don’t ya dare stop."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as you looked up at him, your heart racing. The realization about the rawness of the moment hit you, and you nodded slowly, your fingers sliding back into your pussy as you lay back down in your tent. Your eyes were locked onto his, and he could see the mixed feelings of shock, excitement, and lust in your gaze.

Daryl’s hand soon moved in rhythm with yours again, his strokes becoming faster and more urgent as he watched you. The sight of you, so shameless and wet for him, made him lose himself even more. "Ya know," he said, his voice still low and rough. "Ain't thought I’d see this day. With yer all spread out like this, knowin' I’m here, watchin' ya fuckin’ yerself. 'S a damn mindfuck."

You moaned in response, your fingers working in and out of your pussy with an increasing speed of your thrusts. "And you think you can just walk in here?" You taunted back and teased him. "You think you’re gonna get what you want, Dixon?"

Daryl’s eyes never left yours, his cock throbbing with need. "Ain't just here for the damn show," he growled. "I’m here to fuckin' claim ya. Ya got that?"

Your eyes widened, and you barely held back a loud moan, your fingers pushing deeper into your pussy. "And what makes you think I’ll just let you?" You challenged him back, your eyes wandering from his cock to his face again.

"Oh, I think ya fuckin' will," Daryl said, his voice full of confidence. "'Cause I fuckin' want to. And it’s my turn to take what I want."

Every movement, every quiet moan, and every word you both whispered to each other heightened the lust and need for the both of you. Daryl’s strokes on his cock became more frantic, and he could feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his balls growing with every stroke, but he was determined to hold off until he had fully taken in the sight of you.

"Gonna make sure ya know who’s watchin'," Daryl said quietly. "Gonna leave my mark on ya."

He positioned himself above you, and without saying another word, he pointed his cock at you, making sure that his cum would land where he wanted it to.

"I ain't done," he growled, his eyes locked on you. "Not yet."

He took another step closer, his hand still jerking his throbbing shaft, while his other hand reached out, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you up slightly, just enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.

"Do ya want me to finish like this?" He mumbled, his voice already hoarse. "Or do ya want me to make a fuckin' mess 'round here in yer tent?"

You didn’t have a chance to answer before he let go of your hair and moved his cock closer to your body again. He had seen enough, felt enough—he was on the edge and couldn’t hold it back any longer. With a low groan, he started to jerk himself off harder and faster, his eyes never leaving yours, and without warning, he came hard, his hips bucking wildly and his cum shooting out, landing across your body, most of it on your breasts and chin.

"Fuck," he muttered, still stroking his cock, but slowing down. "Look at ya. Just a fuckin' mess now."

You lay there, slowly pulling your fingers out of your pussy, your body covered with his cum. "You know," you suddenly started, your voice quiet but teasing. "You might be the first wildflower that might leave a thorn in my side."

A smirk formed itself on Daryl's lips due to the mention of the flowers, but it was quickly replaced by a look of embarrassment, and he shifted uncomfortably as he put his cock back into his pants. "Shut ya damn mouth, woman."

Without a word, he stepped forward, grabbed your head roughly by your hair, and yanked you up to meet his eyes. You couldn’t help but whimper as he was staring at you up and down, so dangerously close.

Daryl grinned at the noise you made and grabbed your neck with his other hand, the thumb going to your chin and gathering the rest of his cum that was slowly sliding down on it.

"Eat," he insisted, but before you could answer or protest in any way, he put his thumb against your lips and pushed it inside your mouth, waiting for you to suck it off.

And just as he pulled it out again, his mouth came crashing down on yours in a rough and primal kiss. It was demanding, and his teeth moved against your skin as he went down to the side of your jaw, sucking on every bit of flesh on his way down to your neck before biting down hard into it, leaving his mark.

His gaze then fell to your fingers, still glistening with the juices of your pussy, as he held you in a tight grip to keep you from falling due to your trembling legs. Slowly, teasingly, he reached out and brought your fingers to his mouth. His tongue slid over your skin, licking and sucking them off intensely, devouring every bit of what was left of you on them.

Daryl enjoyed the taste of you, and his eyes never left yours as he pulled back a little, his hand roughly grabbing your chin. "Don’t ya fuckin' forget this," he growled, letting go of you and watching as you stumbled back onto the ground in front of him before he finally turned to leave. "Yer mine in ways ya don’t even understand yet."

TAG-LIST: NONE. BECAUSE MY WRITING SUCKS.

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pretty-circa006 · 5 months ago

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Dumb Little Slut

Negan x F! Reader

summary It was a stupid mistake, really, but she didn't think Negan would get this mad at her.

tags rough sex, boot worship, gagging, spanking, choking, unprotected p in v, creampie, squirting, crying and dacryphilia, degradation and name calling, mild dub-con

wc 1.3k

note i totally forgot i had an ao3 account where i uploaded this fic, so when i remembered, of course the first thing i did was cross post it here! fair warning, this is something i would consider dark.

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

With Lucille in hand, Negan sat at the head of the table surrounded by Saviors as he awaited an explanation as to why they only came back with less than half the stuff they were supposed to.

Simon sighed. "One of the workers forgot to close the back of the truck and most of the stuff fell out."

"Ya couldn't go back and get it?" Negan questioned.

"We didn't notice until we got back." Negan sighed and ran a hand over his face. He was beyond pissed. Even though The Saviors would be okay without it, he still hated that half his shit was out scattered on the roads somewhere.

"Who in the hell forgot to close the truck? I want a name and I want it now," he demanded with a slam of the baseball bat to the table.

"[Name]," Simon said. Negan sighed. He should've known it'd be her. This wasn't the first time she's fucked up this stupidly and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last if he didn't teach her a lesson.

"Bring her to my room. Dismissed." He stood up and stormed out before the others could.

...

She nervously stood under Negan's harsh, hazel glare. He was sure she knew why she was here, because the first thing that came out of her were streams of apologies.

"I-I'm sorry, S-sir! I thought I had closed it, honest!" she sobbed with big teary eyes. He grabbed a fist-full of her hair and forced her head back to make her stare up at him. She winced, which only motivated him to tighten his grip, earning a whimper from her trembling lips.

"This isn't the first time you've fucked shit up," he growled, a dark look in his eyes. She started crying even harder, which made him smile. He roughly released her hair from his grip. With his gloved hand, he cupped her jaw, his thumb and fingers squeezing her cheeks so hard her lips puffed out. He leaned down to her level, his face barely an inch from hers.

"Your ass is so damn lucky I don't have that pretty fuckin' face of yours burned," he said lowly. He could feel her quivering in his hold, but she maintained eye contact.

"T-thank you for not b-burning my face off," she choked out.

He smiled his charming dimpled smile at her, but his eyes were still dark. With anger or lust, she didn't know, but either way she was afraid.

"Don't think for a second you're getting off scot free. You know damn well you have to make it up to me." She nodded her head as best she could in his grip. He roughly let go of her jaw and shed off his leather jacket before sitting down in his leather couch.

"Strip," he ordered once she was standing before him.

"Y-yes, sir." She unlaced her boots before toeing them off. With trembling hands, she unbuttoned her jeans before stepping out of them along with her panties and pulling her tank top over her head. Negan wolf whistled when he saw she wasn't wearing a bra. Normally, that would've had her all hot and bothered, but this wasn't like the other times she's been called to his bedroom.

"On your knees." She lowered herself to all fours and crawled over to him. She awaited her next orders like an obedient puppy.

"Get yourself off on my boot." His boot was relatively clean, considering, so she didn't hesitate to put her bare clit on the toe of his boot. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes with remorseful doe eyes. She began to grind her hips on the leather, giving her clit the much needed friction.

"You are one filthy slut! Look at you gettin' off on my goddamn boot," he mocked.

Without warning, Negan shoved his index, middle, and ring finger in her mouth, commanding her to suck, which she did eagerly. Her tongue swirled around the digits before he shoved them as far down her throat as he could, until the rest of his hand stopped him, causing her to gag around his hand.

"Thaaat's it, take it like a good little slut," he simultaneously praised and degraded.

She continued humping his boot, coating it in her slick as she became more aroused and closer to her orgasm. The coil that built up in her lower belly was so close to bursting and Negan could tell by the garbled moans that came out around his hand. Every now and then, he'd press down on the back of her tongue, causing her to gag and more hot tears to pour down her face, making him grow even harder in his pants. She was about to come, Negan saw all her telltale signs, but this was a punishment and she didn't deserve to.

"Oh no, you don't get to cum, at least not yet!"

He yanked his hand out, causing her to cough and picked her up from under her arms bent her over his lap. Her hard sensitive nipples against the rough fabric of his pants caused her to moan. He slapped her ass hard enough to leave a handprint before slapping it even harder a few more times. He could see her arousal pouring down her inner thighs. She was enjoying this far more than he'd like her to.

"N-negan, please!" she begged, earning another slap to the ass.

"You do not fuckin speak unless I tell you to," he said darkly. He pushed her off his lap and onto the floor before ordering her to crawl to the bed and get on it. He followed behind her as he undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, freeing his rock hard cock. It sprung up and slapped his abdomen. Negan was huge and she was honestly nervous to take him without prep. He never prepped her when he was angry at her. He stroked it a few times before lining it up with her leaking cunny. He slid his aching red tip up and down her slick slit before sliding himself all the way in and bottoming out from behind. She screamed out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

"What a slutty pussy, baby," he moaned. He didn't wait for her to adjust to his size and started roughly fucking her with a bruising grip on her hips. As he pounded into her, he roughly kneaded the soft flesh of her ass. Wanton moans escaped her lips with every deep thrust. He tangled his hand in her hair before pulling her head back by it, earning a pained scream from her. His large hand wrapped around her throat, cutting off her oxygen as he got himself off. Her slick, velvety walls clamped down on his girth, a sign she was close. She clawed at Negan's hand, but he only gripped her throat harder.

"Take it like the goddamned dirty girl you are, doll," Negan encouraged. The sounds and smell of sex filled the bedroom. He removed his hand from her throat when he felt her go limp in his hold. Slightly worried, he turned her onto her back while still balls deep in her pussy. His thrusts slowed as he lightly slapped her face a few times until she woke again.

"Don't go passin' out on me now, babydoll."

He put her legs over his shoulders, bending her in half as he picked up his rough pace. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she moaned his name repeatedly. He pawed at her tits as they jiggled with each thrust. His dick twitched inside her before he came without warning. He threw his head back as he moaned her name while emptying his white hot seed into her slutty pussy. She shook with her orgasm as she squirted around his now semi-hard cock, wetting his dark comforter.

"That's my dumb little slut," he praised as he pulled out. His girl was lazily sprawled out on his bed, barely able to keep her tired eyes open as his cum leaked out of her. He sent a playful slap to her already abused cunny.

"You won't be so lucky next fuckin' time, so I suggest you get your goddamn shit together before you get burned."

She sleepily mumbled in response, too tired and fucked out for anything.

this was originally posted on my ao3 account on 4/28/2024. i haven't posted on there since because people don't comment and barely leave kudos 🥲

#negan x reader #negan fanfiction #negan smith #fanfic #jdm #negan #negan smith x reader #jeffrey dean morgan #twd negan #twd fanfiction #negan x reader smut #smut #the walking dead smut #negan smut #cross posted on ao3

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lilacxquartz · 2 months ago

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part 18 of 19 of kinktober: voyeurism

L x f!reader

plot: L liked to keep tabs on you, often in privacy breaching ways and one night, he caught on more than he had anticipated — themes: yandere L, stalking, voyeurism, spying, warning for unaware reader, masturbation, webcams — w.c: 700ish

kinktober masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

L sat all alone in his dimly lit bedroom, surrounded by multiple monitors panelled across his elusive set up. He remained perched over a desk chair that had long seen better days with his knees tucked in tight against his chest, fixated on one screen in particular.

Or rather one person in particular—you.

He caught sight of you completely by accident once, accidentally tuning into your webcam while on the search for something else. It was silly in a way, because he had forgotten what it even was by now, but one thing was clear and it was that he couldn’t stop thinking about you and you alone.

Almost to the point where it was unhealthy.

L’s fingers flew over the components of his desk, navigating himself hurriedly towards towards a hopeful glimpse of you. It was almost dangerously easy, knowing that you were just one measly quick away. That you were perfectly unaware, allowing him to spy on you again and again.

It wasn’t like he was doing this to be malicious though. Definitely not. He just wanted to know more about you, but being locked into his hermit lifestyle, he had no idea where to start exactly. L therefore watched on with wide, focused eyes as you entered your bedroom, wearing nothing except an old camisole with some loose gym shorts. Your hair was partially damp, hinting at a recent shower, which was made especially evident with just how tight the soft cotton clung and rode up your torso.

L stiffened as he watched you settle into your own desk chair with a hint of lust in his stare. His eyes followed your hand down to slip under the waistband of your shorts and as your chin tilted back to indicate the start of your own self pleasure. Unable to turn his sights away, he continued to glue his gaze onto the screen, watching as you spread your legs and steadied them wide over the table.

There was a split moment where he wondered if he should look away, if he should just stop the spying for once and to just leave you to it…

…But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

He was far too invested for it all to simply just end.

All the while you were perfectly unaware, allowing the pads of your fingertips to swirl around the bud of your clit as you read over a few alluring words on the screen. A nice little relaxing ritual of sorts, so desperately pent up and longing for a release, completely ignorant to the fact that you were currently performing for an audience of one.

The material on the screen is just enough to work with to make your mind wander in the direction you would rather have it go; allowing you to on occasion close your eyes and drift off to explore all sorts of possibilities. At a steady pace you ran tantalising circles across your sensitive flesh, feeling the arousing heat simmer and boil into a rising peak.

You were almost close at this point; feeling the shuddering crescendo of uttered gasps and strangled moans rolling out to meet at the impending climax. Your lower stomach tightened as your own touch sent your senses over the edge, finally melting away as a warm, sweeping sensation flooded through your core.

L watched all the while with his own arousal building from the sight of yours, unable to tear himself away the almost hypnotic bliss evident on your face. In an attempt to savour this forbidden sort of thrill further, he saved a long series of screenshots capturing you in various stages of undress and pleasure alike.

Perhaps it was sick of him to do, but he printed off the images, sticking them into a journal filled with various artefacts portraying you during the moments he simply couldn’t look away from, almost entirely filling up the book.

The journal at this point was a treasured possession for him; a dirty little secret that he had appointed for his eyes only because you were surely that special.

And maybe, just maybe, he would have to see what you’re like in real life for real sometime too, because if he was being frank, it wasn’t quite the same when you were just pixels on the screen.

One day—he thought as he logged off at long last—one day he might just see it through.

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soulidarity · 11 months ago

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pearly tears

rafayel x reader / mc | 384 words | hurt/comfort

after rafayel wakes up from a nightmare, he cant find MC

His hand felt heavy, rapidly moving against the weight of the water. Fighting an invisible force. For what? He wasn't sure. He just felt a sharp pain and anguish in his chest as he went against the tide.

Then he saw her. Slowly descending into the depths of the sea. Her eyes closed, mouth open. He reached out to her, she was almost in his hold when his vision was covered by sea foam.

Rafayel jolted awake. Sweat dripping from his forehead as he took in his surroundings. Right. He wasn't in the water, he was in his bedroom. The covers were sticking to him, a bit of the moon light creeping in from the courtains and his beloved was sleeping right next to him. He turned to see her.

Only to find an empty space.

The artist's breath quickened, his hand gripping the sheets that were supposed to be enveloping her. He looked around rapidly, searching for her. It was hard to tell what was going on now, his senses heightened yet he felt numb. His eyes observing but his vision was clouded. He didnt hear the bathroom door open.

Suddenly arms wrapped around him, holding him tight.

"Im here"

He turned around, cupping her cheecks in his hands to make sure she was real. His love wasn't dead. She was there. Rafayel burst into tears while she leaned into his touch. Her hand made its way to wipe them away as her facial expression changed to one of wonder.

"You cry pearls, how lovely"

Everytime she spoke it felt as if he was in a trance, her gentle voice a contrast to his desperate and anxious demeanor. But the comment only made him cry harder, the pearls growing in size. Quickly, the bed was covered in the shiny and soft object. The sound of them rolling off and hitting the floor was all that could be heard apart from the man's sobs.

Slowly, with her affection he started to calm down. Slim hands playing with his hair as soft lips kissed his jawline.

He moved to her lap, head in the crook of her neck as his arms tightened around her. The pearls had stopped flowing.

"Please... dont leave me..."

She smiled as she patted his back.

"Wouldnt even dream of it"

#rafayel x reader #love & deepspace #love and deepspace #rafayel #otome #hurt/comfort #siren rafayel my beloved #cross posted on ao3 #i havent written fanfics in like 3 years #not beta read we die like caleb

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jensenispunk · 25 days ago

Text

Young Silco x Reader Fic

Angst + Fluff

Word count: 2,030

Youd been up for hours, on the balcony. Watching the few stars you could see in the sky. Zuan didn’t have good air quality so two stars felt perfect to you.

Silco had been in bed, sleeping after a shift in the mines. His body wrapped in your sheets. But your eyes stayed on the stars and the ember of your cigarette.

So caught up in your own thoughts you didn’t hear Silco get out of bed. He leaned on the balcony doorway, admiring your figure in what little moonlight could reach the undercity.

“Can I bum that from you?” Silco asks with a grin from behind you. In a simple pair of shorts and a tank top. His hands slightly stained black from the mines. That cocky grin that never really left on his lips.

“Maybe,” you looked over your shoulder, flashing him a smile. Bringing the cigarette to your lips. Blowing the smoke in his direction.

Silco smirked and moved behind you, arms snaking around your waist. He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck and tilted his head down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“What are you doing out here so late?” He questioned while taking the cigarette from your lips and taking a drag himself. Blowing the smoke out into the nights cold air.

“Can’t sleep, why are you up?” you questioned back. he needed more sleep than you did. But here he was holding you on the balcony. The undercity silent for once. No screams, no yelling, no music. It was peaceful in a way. Very few lights on inside of the nearby apartments. You looked over the city, admiring the unusual sight of tranquility.

“Woke up and you weren’t in bed.” He mumbled against your cheek before placing another kiss there, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist. He took another drag and exhaled, blowing the smoke into the still air.

“Too many thoughts?” His free hand rubbed over your side, in a comforting manner as he smoked. A habit neither of you planned to give up anytime soon. The smoke faded in soft moonlight.

You nodded, moving your head to look back at him. His hair had grown long. His eyes never seemed to dim. The blue staying icy, but never cold.

“Not exactly,” you moved your eyes to look over the city again. Then the smoke fading beside you. Gently taking the cigarette back. Inhaling the smoke, relishing in the slow burn of it. The smoke filling your lungs and then back out.

“Talk to me then, darling.” Silco’s hands continued to rub small and soothing patterns against your sides. He knew you were deep in thought. Which only worried him more. He tended to worry about you more than himself.

He leaned his cheek against your shoulder, waiting for your reply, listening to any noise from the city below. But there was only soft silence. It was odd, but welcome.

“I don’t know, just dreaming of somewhere else I guess.” You answered simply, as if it had been a common topic.

Silco was a little comforted by your hand against his head. He pressed his cheek into your touch, his own hands falling to rest on your waist again, gripping the material of your shirt, taking comfort in just being close to you.

He was silent, just feeling the gentle brush of your fingertips against his scalp. It was comforting, it made him sigh and close his eyes.

“Do you… wish we weren’t down here anymore?” He questioned after a few moments in the quiet. His tone was soft, a hint of anxiety behind it.

“Sometimes, but we can’t fix it. So we just have to live with it.” You said trying to be optimistic. Very badly failing, but the effort was there. Your hand on his cheek, his hands along your waist. The look in his eyes so soft you could get lost.

“Live with it,” He repeated, his tone now a slightly harsh. He here goes…

Silco lifted his head, looking at you in a sense of faux pride. He gripped the material of your shirt a little tighter.

“Why should we? I can make it better, I can fix Zuan.” His voice was growing a little louder now, the anxiety from before now turning into irritation, his hands now resting flat on your hips. You just rolled your eyes at him. Vander had gotten into his head about fixing the undercity. Making it a better place. Gods, you wished he’d realize that wouldn’t happen. Not anytime soon atleast.

“Damn, Vander.” You mumbled under your breath as you took your hand off his cheek. His gap toothed smile moving to a look of hope. One that was so rare so far down here. Vander had gotten into his head about this zuan crap. “Let’s just go back to bed..”

“What was that?” Silco grabbed your wrist gently, still giving you a chance to pull away and move back, to break any physical contact he still had with you. But he stood a little straighter, his eyebrows furrowing as he searched your eyes.

“No, we’re going to talk about this,” His tone was a little harsh now, but he made no move to pull you closer. He was still giving you space, but he wouldn’t allow you to leave after bringing Vander up.

“Sils, cmon, you’re tired I’m tired. Let’s just go back to sleep. I’m not in the mood for this Nation of Zuan stuff.” a huff escaped your lips as you walked past him, back into the small apartment. The room smelled of cigarettes and vanilla. Due to the candles you had swiped from a piltie shop.

Silco huffed, his eyes following your every move as you walked past him. His jaw clenched as you spoke, and he was tempted to grab your arm and spin you around. To make you see reason, to make you understand that Zuan would get better.

Instead, all Silco did was follow behind you, his feet against the cold floor of the bedroom.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” He growled as he watched you climb into bed, irritation and frustration in his tone. He was still standing in the doorway, watching you through narrowed eyes.

“Do we have to?” You sighed, crawling into the full mattress. Just enough room for the two of you. That’s how you liked it, just the two of you.

“Yes. We do.” Silco replied bluntly as he walked over to his side of the bed and climbed in beside you. No matter how much you annoyed him, he still wanted you close to him. His body still wanted your warmth.

He wrapped his arm around your waist again, pulling you towards him, your back against his chest. Despite the irritation and frustration running through his veins, Silco still wanted to hold you. Even in arguments he refused to sleep on the couch.

You kept your eyes on the wall. Letting him hold you. Tension still lining your shoulders.

Silco was silent for a moment, his arms still wrapped tightly around you. He buried his head against your shoulder, just breathing in your scent. He didn’t like when you were like this. You were tense and distant… and he hated it.

“Don’t be so quiet.” His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke against your shirt, gripping the material at your hips.

“What do you want me to say? Every time I voice my opinion on ‘your nation’ you get all pissy.” You turned to face him. Voicing your frustrations never really worked, he was as stubborn as a dog. It was one thing you both loved and hated. But there was no perfection in the undercity.

Silco’s eyes slowly opened as you turned to face him, his expression still a little frustrated. He was tense, his jaw still clenched. He wasn’t good at admitting when he was wrong or when he had failed.

“I don’t get pissy,” He mumbled, his eyes searching yours for any signs of annoyance or disappointment. He hated the tension, he wanted you to soften and melt back into his arms, just like you always did.

“Whatever,” you turned back around. Facing the wall in frustration, too tired to truly argue or to be civil.

Silco’s eyes darkened as you turned back around and faced the wall. He hated this side of you. The cold and closed off attitude. He wanted the you that was open and sarcastic. The you that always spoke your mind no matter how much he hated it.

“Say something,” He hissed in annoyance.

“Love you, goodnight.” You said in faux tone, acting like everything was fine and dandy. The irritation melting from your eyes as you saw the hurt under his mask of hope and aggression

Silco’s eyes widened slightly, hearing the false sweetness and adoration in your voice. It was almost enough for him to relax, almost enough for him to believe that everything was fine. But he knew you too well by now. He was aware of the annoyance and irritation that you were holding back.

His grip on your hip grew a little tighter, his fingers digging in just slightly. His breath hit your shoulder as he took a deep breath before speaking.

“Do not say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I do love you, no matter how irrational you are. You still matter to me.” You turned back over, facing him again. “Sils,” you ran your hand over the side of his neck. A gentle touch to his warm skin.

His eyes darkened as you placed your hand against his neck, the anger and irritation leaving his face as he felt the gentle touch. As he took in the words you spoke. His eyes searched your face, his heart racing in his chest as he listened to your words. The look in his face speaking volumes over what words could.

He shifted slightly, moving his head forward to rest it in the crook of your neck. His breathing was slow as he inhaled your scent and spoke softly.

“You know I only want to improve Zuan...”

“It’s just scares me, I don’t know how far you’ll go to get there.” You whispered, words leaving soft lips hoping for gentle reassurance.

Silco’s breath hit your skin as he buried his face further in your neck. He pressed a kiss against the soft skin there, taking comfort in your presence. His grip on your hip was still tight, but not as much as before. Almost as if he was holding on for dear life. He did not want to let you go. He did not want to lose you.

“I won’t lose sight of what I want,” He spoke against your skin, his words quiet and gentle, trying to soothe you.

“And what is it you want?” You asked, the anger and irritation long left behind. Now fading along with the tension between you two.

Silco’s grip on your hip loosened slightly, his hand rubbing slow and soothing circles against the skin under your shirt. He took a deep breath in, his eyes closed as he spoke. His voice was still quiet, but gentle and steady as he spoke.

“Power,” He began, his voice steady despite the vulnerable situation he was in. He spoke against your skin, his lips against the warm skin. “I want to give Zuan the power and respect it deserves.”

“Don’t we all,” you smiled and gave him a small kiss.

Silco’s eyes slowly opened when he felt your lips press against his skin, a soft and gentle kiss. He slowly lifted his head from the crook of your neck to look at you.

His eyes were still soft, the usual coldness melted away. He lifted his hand from its place on your hip, moving it to gently cup the side of your jaw. He ran his thumb against your cheek, his touch gentle and intimate.

Silco just looked at you for a moment, his eyes scanning your face. The usual irritation and determination replaced with something more affectionate.

And for once, you felt at peace.

#arcane silco #young silco #silco x reader #fanfic #cross posted on ao3 #he’s so babygirl #silco fanfic #silco x you

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soapybutt17 · 1 year ago

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Night Showers

Summary: A shower, a missing condom, and Soap doing his best to get on his Captain's nerves (the 20 laps around the entire base was worth it). Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. John "Soap" MacTavish. Word Count: 2,168 Chapter Warnings: Smut. Unprotected Penetration. Creampies. P in V. Oral Sex (F receiving). Alternate Universe. Soap just being a little shit for the giggles and all. Unedited as usual. A/N: To the anon that sent me the request, this is for you. I just can't get this idea out of my head and it shows.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Request are Open

One of the few perks of being part of the upper ranks were the privilege of having your own time to bathe. But unlike other assholes that prefer being in first, you preferred to be the last one to step foot in the communal showers. You prefer taking your time, lathering yourself up to the perfect suds and savoring every single minute of the cold water against your skin.

You preferred your privacy as much as the next person and practically living in the base, you don’t get that privilege as often as you want unless you were here. It was ironic seeing it was a communal space and there was an off chance another female member of the base would slip back in but it was rare especially at this time of the night where you were certain almost everyone aside from the people on watch duty were fast asleep.

The frigid cold water would have woken you up but the longer you stood in the water, the more did you feel the weight of the day get to you and you were close to falling asleep from where you stood. You were close to ready to finally get to bed and sleep before the following day of drills.

You felt a hand before you realize it and instincts had equipped you to act fast and hit whoever was ballsy enough to touch you. But it seems your husband was faster than you as he held onto your fisted hand. A smirk playing on his lips for catching you off guard.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” You whispered screamed at him at this point. The panic of someone possibly entering immediately crossed your mind and the possibility of either of you (mostly him) getting in trouble for being in the same shower together.

“Locked the door on my way in if that’s what you’re worried about, Love.” He smirked and only now did you come to realize that he was butt naked just as much as you.

You felt the heat on your cheeks at the realization. It’s been far too long since you’ve had even a semblance of intimacy with your husband. With mission and reports constantly pulling the both of you apart, having him so close to you now only brought the much deprived need in you to come back full force for him to see.

“Fucking hell, cold as ice.” He muttered as the water has finally hit his skin.

Your eyes gazed at the bear of a man you had the privilege of calling your husband. The way the water slither against his hairy chest and down to his happy trail all the pent up desire has come and you did not know if you had the mental fortitude to resist him at this point.

“Seein’ something you like, Love?” He teased, his watercolor eyes gazing down at you as he caught you staring.

“Very.” You quipped turning back to the waters to wash away the last of the suds that was still covering your skin. “But I think you already know that by now.” You muttered looking over your shoulder to look down at his manhood alive and awake you to see.

“Most definitely.” He chuckled, his arms found their way around your waist, pulling you further into his torso, his manhood pressing against your back in the process. “And you could feel it right now.”

“John…” You warned. You’ve had far too many close calls with the man in the past, had it not been for everyone’s lack of idea about what was going on between the both of you, you both would have been caught in one too many compromising situation.

“I’m doing nothing, Love.” He chuckled, his hand slowly creeping from your stomach up towards the swells of your breast giving a gentle squeeze before one hand rested against the columns of your neck and the other holding onto your jaws to keep you in place. “Nothing at all.” He purred, lips finding their place against where your neck and shoulders met.

“John not here.” You warned him again, the fact that the doors to the showers were locked did not reassure you at all. You still fear the possibility that someone had seen you then seen your husband walk inside in the middle of the night.

“Where then? Name a time and place.” He propositioned.

“Your room, after you shower.” You finally relent knowing that when your husband was in the mood just as much as you were, nothing would stop him from having you.

“Deal.” He turned your head until your lips met his own in a searing kiss that drowned you more than the water that showered above you both.

Your hand found their way against his wet beard, trying and failing to control his kiss, savoring the first of many kisses he was more than willing to give you for the rest of the night.

Fuck Protocol. Fuck Reputation. You will be fucked and you will make the most out of it.

“I’ll meet you naked on your bed.” He practically commanded you now as he pulled away. Any other time you would have made the protest of him giving him orders the way that he did but you truly didn’t care at this point.

Nodding, you pulled away from his hold. The coldness of his absent touch did more damage than the water ever could. Without even looking back, you had toweled dried yourself and put on your clothes—ignoring the fact that it was your dirtied ones. You’re going to be naked once you’re back in bed anyways and made your way out of the showers and making sure to lock the door behind you in the process.

“God fucking damnit.”

With shaking legs, you peered down at your husband post-orgasm from between your legs as he began searching through his discarded pants. A few choice words escaped his lips as he continued on with his search. It was so unlike the Captain to be this antsy but it was given in the situation at hand.

“What?” You asked, dazed still from your release with just his mouth. You felt the ache on your lips from biting too hard and trying and somewhat failing to keep your moans and whimpers to a minimum.

“Condom.” He practically growled as he began to look around his room.

You blinked as his frustration was now in full force as he began to look around his room for another spare but no luck whatsoever.

“Just fuck me, John.” You whimpered, hand somehow finding their way towards your still too sensitive bud. Keeping yourself sated while you waited.

“But…”

“I’m on my pills, just fuck me already.” You were now practically demanding him at this point. “Please.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice as he dove right on top of you. Slotting himself in between your legs. He pulled you in for another searing kiss. Your arms and legs had immediately wrapped around him, urging him to finally fuck you but he was taking his sweet time—a time neither of you truly had with the night slowly fading into daylight.

“A fucking little menace you are, aren’t you?” He teased, grinding his pelvic bone against your nub. “Just so desperate for me are you?” He questioned, voice growling louder and instincts kicked in as you slapped your hand towards his mouth to quiet him down.

He did not like it one bit as he held both of your hands above your head.

“Did I fucking tell you to touch me, Pet?” He growled against your ears.

“John—you need to be quiet.” You whispered struggling to free from his hold.

“You don’t get to make orders here, Lieutenant.” He whispered against your ears, nipping at your lobe before his lips lingered against your cheeks and finding their way towards your lips but not truly kissing you. “Is that clear?”

“Yes.” You whimpered as his hips dug further into your core.

“Yes what, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Captain.” You squealed as he finally slipped right into you.

The aching sting even with him preparing you lingered through your entire body. It was always a task in on itself as he held onto you. One hand held onto your own up above your head and the other held onto your leg and pulling it up as high as you physically could.

“Bloody fucking hell.” He groaned. “Fucking tight.” He muttered.

Without another word, his moved his hips, a gruelingly slow but deep pace that had you gasping at each piston. Your legs held onto his waist for dear life and your teeth bit against your lips stopping from any noise from escaping.

You watched all the control leave from your husband’s body as his thrust had gotten sloppy.

“Please…” You pleaded, even when you truly didn’t know what you were even begging for right now. “Please. Please. Please.”

You felt it before you realize what was going on, the spurts painted your insides and the mind numbing shiver that wrecked from your toes up to your head. You moaned, louder than you would have wanted it to be but your husband was quick to silence you with his lips. Pulling you into him, swallowing every moans and every whimper as he continued on with thrusting inside of you.

Finally, your husband had let go of your hands, you winced as blood began flowing right back and the familiar tingling sensation seeped through. He pulled away, looking down at you in the all too familiar adoration that you felt the same for him. You were sated, blissed and thoroughly satisfied from the longing you felt for your husband.

“Are you broken?” John inquired.

A playful smile rested on your face, the context that it was a question he often asked after any of his team were put in a bad spot. It was his own little way of asking anyone and everyone if they were alright.

“Split open, but I’ll survive.” You respond,

He smiled, chuckling at your antics. Before a flip has switch and his hand held onto you pulling you up and turning you until you were on your hands and knees. Without even missing a beat or even allowing you to say anything, he plunged himself right back into you.

“Good.” He chuckled leaning close to your ears. “There’s still more where that came from.”

Breakfast in the mess hall was boring and you preferred it that way. Enjoying your tea and toast and jam in the peace of the table you shared with John, Gaz, and Simon was all you could ask for after the grueling night you had with your husband.

Even from the frequent sips of his coffee, you know he was just trying his best to hide the smirk playing on his face. Last night had been a blur after the third round for you. When your husband was on a mission, nothing could truly stop him from taking what he wants and what he needed from you, you were all the more willing to give it to him if he needed it.

But with that being said, you also knew the consequences of your actions. The ache between your legs and the sore throat you were nursing with your ginger tea. There was also the array of hickeys and bruises that painted your entire body and you did your best to hide as much as possible even in the sweltering heat.

The next time you would even think about sleeping with your husband is when you’re both done with your deployment. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Aye Price!”

You winced, the peace of your own filthy thoughts of last night was ruined by Soap’s booming voice taking most of everyone’s attention (some already used to his morning antics, decided to just ignore him). You looked up towards the Scot and paled at the all too familiar foil packet in his grasp.

“Saw this in front of your room last night. Hope the lucky lady you had in your room was fine being raw dogged for the night.”

You could feel the fury boil from where you sat. You had noticed both Simon and Gaz strategically move a little farther away from where the Captain sat but they had an all good view of the man as he stood and ordered Soap to run the entire base twenty times.

It pissed John even more was the fact that Soap wasn’t all that afraid with his punishment, cackling as he skipped out of the mess hall, the condom still in his hand for everyone to see. Soap would truly not let him live this down.

His eyes slowly turned to you and this time it was you who was trying your best to hide the smile as you took another generous sip of your tea.

The consequence of his own actions it seems.

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ellesthots · 3 months ago

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punished - kinktober 2024

ONESHOT!

read on AO3 ❤️‍🔥

plot: after a disappointing night as Batman, Bruce wants you to make him suffer [not related to Fateful]

pairing: bruce wayne x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut, orgasm denial, breath play

words: 2.3k

a/n: hi lovelies!! a little treat for the month of October 🎃 based on the 2023 kinktober prompt list (day 14 - orgasm denial), since they didn’t release an official one this year <3 comments, reblogs, etc SO appreciated 💭

It was your favorite position to have him in, and an opportunity that didn’t come often.

Sometimes, after an especially frustrating night crimefighting—say, the muggers got away, the clues led nowhere, or Batman came too late—he’d arrive back home with that look in his eye. A frustrated, ruminating expression that crowded even the massive rooms at Wayne Manor. A demeanor that screamed ‘I need to be punished’.

It floored you the first time he said as much, a few months ago. When he’d trudged upstairs with his eye makeup still on, the black mess smeared up into his browbone and blotchy in the hollow of his undereyes. The fire in his gaze nearly had you running to the bedroom, chasing fantasies of him fucking you into oblivion, blowing off steam. The promise of his bruising touch was the only thing keeping you satisfied on his long nights away.

But that night was different. The closer he came, the more the fire melted into something gentler, more vulnerable. Still, his jaw was tight, twitching in the way exclusive to angry curses and frustrated sighs. His voice was low and hoarse in your ear, the prick of his stubble grazing the crook of your neck. He exhaled a single, quivering breath before speaking. “Punish me.”

You felt faint. Bruce rarely relinquished control in the bedroom, save times he could tell how desperate you were to be on top. Before he walked toward his room, he caught your eye, a careful gauge of your comfort. As shocking as it was to hear it from his mouth, the big bad Batman, you would’ve been lying if you said it didn’t make your pulse race. You nodded, and he disappeared into the dark hallway behind you.

Alone in the hallway, a dozen lewd thoughts circled you. Your limbs tingled with anticipation, overwhelmed by the sheer mass of options. You’d asked him to punish you before, so this was far from unknown territory… you closed your eyes and imagined which sensations he’d allowed you that you wanted to return.

Choking him would be especially pleasing, and… your mouth curled into a grin and you suppressed a laugh. Of course. He wouldn’t think it was anything until he was already in too deep, a shock to his system, leaving him reeling… the anxiety melted away to a selfish excitement, waiting for the pinch in his eyes, how his face might look, his body tense and wanting, so close yet so impossibly far… fuck.

Your feet were light across the cool manor floor. Alfred was nowhere to be seen, and you were grateful for it. Too many times you’d been concerned he might overhear, but tonight that didn’t seem to be the case. Bruce wanted to be punished, wanted to suffer a bit. It wouldn’t be a feat silently won.

The dynamic had already been switched, entering to him sat on the edge of the bed, his spandex long sleeve he wore on every patrol in a pile by his nightstand. You could see in his eyes that he didn’t know what to expect, which was invigorating. He looked almost meek.

As you approached him, you nearly second-guessed it. It would be punishing for you too, not seeing, hearing, feeling his climax. But holy shit was it exhilarating to be the one standing over him, watching as his eyes deepened their focus on yours, fingers moving to undo his button. Was this the power and excitement he felt each time with you, as you tugged down your satin nightgown, unclasped your lace bra?

Your eyes caught on the slightest tremble in his hands while pulling down the zipper. You put your hand over his, and he halted on contact. You pulled yourself closer and dragged your lips from his jaw to his collarbone. His body was worn, muscles tired. It must’ve been a rough night. Your free hand caressed his back, tracing gentle, reassuring circles between his shoulderblades. “Remember your safe word?”

Bruce was putty in your hands, nothing more than a breathy, needy whisper. “Yes.”

Having said the magic words, you placed your hand around his neck, pushing him flush on his back against the mattress. You watched his eyes flash as you tightened your grip, swallowing like his mouth had gone dry. You placed a hand to his sternum as you climbed on top, where you felt his pulse thunder beneath your palm. You slowly dragged your fingertips along his sweat-soaked skin toward the waistband of his boxers.

His breathing hitched, feeling the movement in his throat as you slipped one, then two fingers underneath the elastic. A heady, potent feeling of intoxication swept you, having him completely at your mercy. His face bloomed pink under the pressure of your hand, his eyes a steady pulse of blue, singularly focused as a man starved.

“Were you bad tonight?” Your voice was sweet like honey. He nodded as much as he could within your vice grip, and his lashes fluttered, as if ashamed to admit it. The way the moonlight illuminated the curve of his biceps, caressed the snags of violence across his skin, you felt dizzy. His voice held its own echo, like he’d been hollowed out. “Very.”

Oh how you longed to kiss those lips… “Mmm, can’t have that.” You pulled your hand out from his boxers, as if you had changed your mind about touching him. Your fingers traipsed along the sides of his torso, causing him to shudder. The sensation brought sparks to your fingertips. His eyes searched your face, his desire increasingly evident, desperate to be taken care of. Your fingers caught on the subtle slopes and valleys of his abdomen, skimming the raised scars on his chest, moving agonizingly slower until they reached your mouth.

Bruce’s pupils dilated as he watched you throat your fingers, spit strings falling down your chin as you pulled them away. He moaned as your slick fingers found the base of his cock. He was already hard. Very hard. You squeezed your fingers firmer round his throat with each stroke, drawing strangled moans out of him that only made you press harder, move faster. His head dug into the pillow in glorious agony, the tension in his throat heightening each slip of your hand. You felt every reverberation of his moans within your palm. Every inhale, every exhale. God, it was so fucking hot… you pressed your knees together on the bed, feeling your pussy start to throb.

“Fuck, mmph,” his hands moved up to grip the edge of his pillow, his knuckles going white. He was becoming lost in it, obvious by the shivering moans gasping out of him, the way his hips drove up to match the rhythm of your hand. He was wound up, messy. His hair splayed in dark clumps across his forehead, his eyes squeezing shut, brows furrowing. Seeing him like this, so enraptured in your touch, it could’ve overwhelmed you if you weren’t so stubborn.

But he kept moaning, and his chest kept heaving, and the slip of his dick in your hand was mind-numbingly torturous… when you knew he could be inside you, and the only thing standing between you and his thick, long… you pumped harder, biting the inside of your cheek, hyperfocusing on his mouth like it wasn’t the precise thing making it worse. You noticed your hips subtly moving in concert with his, wanting to lean closer and fucking feel him. Your eyes trailed to his fingers curling around the linen pillowcase, pinching the folds, metabolizing what his moans failed to, and it broke the last thread.

You slowed down, his eyes snapping open at the shift, chest heaving. His pupils were blown, and goddammit, you felt like you could burst. You bunched up your shirt to get it out of the way and straddled him, shoving your thong to the side. If he wasn’t getting release tonight, you’d find it. Sinking onto him was otherworldly, his dick achingly hard, your cunt already puffy and soaked like you’d been at this for hours, welcoming him readily. Your grip slipped on his neck as you rode him, your vision blurring between the wet, slapping sounds of him driving into you, and the groans mingling in the space between your mouths.

He married his hands to your hips to pull you down harder, and it took every ounce of self-control to refuse him. Usually you savored the grip of his fingers, he knew it made you weak, but you were teetering on the edge of a cliff. In a movement that read to your body as blasphemy, as sin, you slammed forward, shoving your hand back around his throat. His arms slacked at his sides as you chastised him. “Manners, baby… only me.”

Your body flattened against him and you left sloppy kisses along his jugular, bathing in the sensation of him hitting your g-spot over, and over… your hands pawed at his jaw, shrieking as you felt tension coil in your stomach, your heart quickening to a fever pitch. Small trails of black fell down his cheeks, the warmth of your colliding bodies running his eye paint.

You knew him well, well enough to know he was lost in it, and that he knew you were there, too. He’d long abandoned the proposition of punishment, relishing in the feeling of your hot, cushioned walls enveloping him, drowning in the symphony of your moans. You could tell he needed this, the way his hips chased yours, slamming into you with increasing abandon. You were almost there, but he was too… if you finished, he would. God, now you really wanted to punish him.

In a swift motion, you slunk between his legs, his dick throbbing against your thigh as it slid completely out of you. A whine cracked the edge of his moan. He propped up on his elbows, panting, watching as you moved both hands to his shaft. By this point his cock was aching, possibly the hardest it’d ever felt. Every time your fingers glided over his tip you’d catch some of his arousal, mingling it with your own with each push, pull.

You had to get this over with now, or you were going to cave. You whispered your lips along his shaft, his hips jerking involuntarily with every gentle swirl of your tongue along the rim. Sweat and adrenaline closed your lips around his head, your hands working the base.

“Baby,” he whimpered, his head falling back. His shoulders relaxed into the feeling, his elbows slipping against his sheets. His lashes were fluttering, his abs tightening, his mouth parting a little, more, a lot… your body became tight with need, borrowing some of the anguish you were sure he’d be feeling soon.

You removed it from your mouth with a subtle pop, savoring the taste of him as you licked your lips. “Look how much of a mess you are.”

His brows knit together as your hands wrung the length of him, his breathing becoming increasingly labored. He was so pretty like this, writhing underneath you. So responsive…

The moans you were pulling out of him almost made you feel bad for what you were about to do. Almost.

A high-pitched groan paired with the twitch of his dick signified the building of his climax. He had no fucking idea, but he’d asked for it. Your brow cocked and he nodded, the edges of his breaths ragged and frayed. “I’m so,”

“Close?”

He nodded again, his inhales shallow and stilted as you increased your fervor, pumping him straight to the edge. His gasps could’ve split the windows, pitchy whines expelling from his chest. “Yes, yes,”

“So close, hmm?” You slowed down just so, barely, imperceptible to someone as thrown as he was. “So fucking close,”

“Just like that, oh, fuck, fuck,” His movements drew erratic, his hips fucking himself into your hand, sweat pouring down his face. You bit back a giggle, watching his body begin to surrender, wishing you could bottle this moment in time. The instant you felt his body prep a shudder, you shot back, ceasing all contact.

He choked on a strangled moan, his eyes flashing wide in shock, his mouth flying open. On your knees at the foot of his bed, you watched his body stretch toward release, unable to grasp it. He slowly attempted to get his bearings, his body heaving with unspent pleasure. You blushed as you witnessed his cock throb in vain—right there, but not quite.

You smirked at him as you ran your hands up his calves, his body vibrating. He blinked hard, whiplash ravaging his system. Your voice was a low, teasing purr. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

His exhausted eyes held the hint of a glare, his teeth gritting hard as he accepted the loss. His heart jammed against his ribs, screaming in protest. He fell back against the sweat-soaked pillow, bringing his hands up to rub his face, hiding the bitter heat flushing his cheeks. “Christ,”

You stood, the bed creaking softly beneath you. You twirled your shirt off and tossed it by the door of his bath, all but skipping over to it. “I’d help you clean yourself up, but…” When you looked back, his dick was softer, his breathing starting to regulate. His eyes flicked over to you, his breath deepening, as if overwhelmed by the sight of you.

He hauled a sigh from the depth of his lungs, agonizingly situating upright. He steadied his breathing for a few beats, stomach coiled tight, body heavy. Jesus fucking Christ. As wholly, entirely frustrated as he was, he was undeniably impressed; his tense, electrified body the ultimate testament, unable to block a boyish grin from revealing itself to you. “Stop celebrating.”

You hummed your way to his shower, choreographing the shape of your hands slammed against the fogged glass. “Careful what you wish for.”

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blueflamebimbo · 3 months ago

Text

DEW KISSED

TIGHNARI X READER

Tighnari likes knowing things. Tighnari likes mushrooms. Above all, Tighnari likes you. The feeling, thankfully, is absolutely mutual.

A/N: I saw a lot of Genshin smut on here, so I wrote something wholesome out of spite. I also said I wasn't going to put a lot of effort into it and ended up researching rain forest preservation systems. My bad.

Dedicated to: @husbandograveyard Warnings: Brush your teeth. This shit sweet. Word count: 1,070

A small smile pulled at the sides of your mouth as you watched the breeze flow through the grass, making it lean into the most serene sea of greens and flowery whites. The wind wasn’t as strong as it had been the past few days, and though clouds still brought a chill to the spring afternoon in the fields of East Sumeru, the sun was finally out again, making the fields glisten.

Your walk from home had taken only a short while as you made your way to the edge of Avidya Forest. The bark felt rough against your skin as you sat down on a fallen tree trunk, a favourite spot of yours that looked out into the depths of the forest. It was the perfect spot to watch forest critters scurry about while enjoying both the warmth of the air and the shade of the trees that towered above you, casting shadows at your feet as the sun travelled from East to West.

There was a familiar tingling sensation in your gut as you eyed the rustling leaves ahead of you. Tomorrow, you would embark on quite the adventure. After spending years with your nose hidden in pages upon pages of information that were carefully tucked away at the Akademiya, your first research project away from home was finally about to start. The thought brought tension to your neck, and you reached up to soothe the sore muscle.

From between the leaves, your favourite project partner emerged. Tighnari set down his satchel in front of you, his gaze never leaving you, but his initial grin faltering slightly at your visible discomfort.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” he murmured, getting down and sitting back on his haunches. One of his big ears twitched in concern and a dew drop flicked off, hitting the tree trunk.

You nodded sheepishly and let go of your neck, settling both your hands behind you on the bark, letting you lean back slightly. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” You smiled at him reassuringly and let out a soft sigh. “Is it foolish of me to be nervous about tomorrow, though?"

He laughed. Not the gentle, friendly laugh most people knew and appreciated, but a full, cheeky laugh; one that pushed at his cheeks and made his eyes disappear into green crescents. “Don’t be silly – it’s your first research project, honey, of course you’re allowed to be nervous,” he shrugged. “I won’t have you be worried about any of it, though. You’re so well-prepared. I was there every step of the way, watching you learn, watching you grow into the scholar I know you are.” He paused, “And, even if you do doubt – that’s okay, too. I’ll be right there to help. You’re not in this alone, but I have faith in that big brain of yours.”

You could feel your cheeks heating up, the compliment nestling deep inside of your chest and blooming as you watched his eyes peer up at you with both wonder and adoration. It was almost too much to be the subject of the forest watcher’s affection, but it also never got old, not even after this much time had passed.

Looking out into the depths of the forest, you let the soft breeze hit your flushed cheeks and pondered the many truths you would uncover with Tighnari, starting tomorrow.

“It’s strange, isn’t it,” you wondered, “How something so vast and mysterious can be so perfectly balanced.”

Tighnari knew where this was going and sat back into the grass, mindlessly pulling forest specimens out of his satchel before handing you an almost perfect looking common mushroom – his favourite.

“Forests barely have any nutrients in the ground,” you continued, choosing to momentarily ignore the way Tighnari was beaming at the way he had handed you the perfect prop for the speech he knew so very well by now.

“It’s only really the top part of the soil that’s filled with helpful sources: fallen leaves, dead animals, decomposed plant matter…” you trailed off, grinning. “That’s where the good stuff comes from, huh? All for these fun guys to enjoy.” You held up the mushroom and showed off its simple shape. “Mushrooms use the tree roots to absorb all of the delicious nutrients and enter mycorrhiza, the coolest symbiosis of all, which then makes it easier for the tree roots to actually absorb the nutrients and, in turn, the mushrooms get carbohydrates from the tree. How amazing is that?!”

By now, Tighnari looked so proud, it wouldn’t have surprised you if he teared up. But no – surprise was always an option when accompanied by the botanical scholar, and it was evident in the way he got to his feet, cupped your cheeks and planted a gentle kiss to your lips. You could taste the dew drops in his kiss, and it tasted like spring, and adventure, and trust.

When he pulled away, he looked almost smug. It was the look he would give anyone when they contested anything he said, and he would tell them to look it up. Tighnari was rarely wrong.

“You’re so ready that I doubt you’ll need me at all, honey,” he sighed, his eyes bright and excited.

“Does that mean you’ve changed your mind, and you won’t be joining me after all?” you teased. You got up from the tree trunk and stepped closer, gently reaching up and letting your fingertips caress the tip of his ear. A ladybug that had been hiding in the fluff of his fur made its way down your hand and then flew off.

At the intimately tender touch, he closed his eyes for a moment. A soft blush coloured his cheeks. He took a moment to bask in the proximity and then slowly shook his head, curling his arms around your waist. “Absolutely not,” he responded as he opened his eyes once more and resumed his proud gaze. “I’ll go wherever you go, my botanical little genius. I’ll follow you to the corners of the world and discover all of its secrets with you, if you’ll let me.”

And that’s where the doubts about the wild unknown melted away. Even though there was a lot to learn about the world, there were a lot of certainties for you as well. One of those certainties took you by the hand and led you home, ready to embark on your greatest adventure yet.

#.bimboscribbles #genshin impact #tighnari #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #tighnari x reader #genshin fluff #tighnari fluff #husbandograveyard #cross posted on ao3

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euhla · 8 months ago

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‘CONFESSION’ aventurine x fem!reader (fluff, ballroom dancing)

this is actually a part of my fanfiction that i just post on AO3 but short ver ! it’s actually kinda long (honorable mention; wingman topaz)

A night filled with stars, sounds of people talking in the background, and occasionally the moon gives off reflected light to the ambiance.

A day before Aventurine left to go to Penacony, he was invited to attend an event. The event was nothing more than a dance party in a ballroom.

Fancy and elegant, if Aventurine had to describe it. Several statues representing Greek gods and goddesses are carved beautifully, even the corner of the ballroom looks majestic. And of course, the other invited guests were none other than important people. Aventurine felt a little honored to be invited.

And of course, you are also invited to the event.

Aventurine couldn't take his eyes off you; how the expensive satin dress you're wearing captures every curve of your body perfectly, and how the makeup on your already bewitching face makes you look even more divine.

Aventurine couldn't help but wonder; How does it feel to have you? Will you always allow him to put his hand on your waist so that everyone knows you are his? Will you always call his name with a smile?

Aeons, Aventurine can’t get enough of you.

“Ves'tacha, you look enchanting.” You were surprised by the nickname he used on you, but a blush managed to appear on your cheeks.

“Thanks, Aven. You look even more attractive.”

Schwanengesang, D.957: No. 4 Serenade. Something you wouldn't expect to be played by the great and talented musicians invited to the event.

Sipping the wine given by the waiter who went around to offer wine, you looked at the couples who were dancing to the rhythm.

It tastes good, you think to yourself.

Feeling a hand on your shoulder from behind, you immediately turned around quickly. Finding Aventurine who is now holding your hand.

“Mind for a dance?”

Your confusion was quickly replaced by a smile. “Why not?”

Aventurine kissed your hand, then guided you to follow him. You two look like a couple, that’s what you always thought.

The way Aventurine led the dance immediately, his hand was always gently on your waist, his other hand holding yours.

“You’re going to Penacony tomorrow?” You asked between the silence between the two of you.

“Mhm. Will you miss me?” Aventurine didn't know where he got the courage to get the confidence to ask it.

“Of course,” you answed. Aventurine's eyes easily showed that he was surprised. He felt a slight warmth which relieved him.

“Then, let's go together.” Now you are the one who is surprised. But you can't lie to your heart that wants to say yes.

Just by your smile, Aventurine knows your answer. He shouted victory in his heart.

“Aven,” you called.

“Yes?”

Masquerade Suite: Waltz. You gave him a smile.

“I like you.”

Aventurine was silent. It took him three seconds to process and try to say something, but his mouth couldn't say anything.

His hand was on your waist pulling you closer. Without saying anything, he kissed you when the music was at its peak. “Ves'tacha,” he whispers.

‘May this heart beats for you.’

#konstelasiv fanfic #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr x y/n #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x you #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #kakavasha x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #cross posted on ao3 #honkai star rail

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belovedivies · 4 months ago

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along the wind (bodyguard!peter x f!reader)

・゜・summary: Peter has made his way to the top by defying the odds his whole life; barely anything fazes him at this point. Yet when a glimpse of normalcy comes into his life in the form of a girl whose presence he initially apathizes, the crack in the Apostle’s stoicism starts to show.゜・* ・゜・tags: reader-insert, pre-canon, pre-rejuvenated peter, slice of life, fluff, slow burn, eventual romance, (my poor) attempt at humor, friends to lovers, typical-canon violence (mostly referenced cuz i suck at writing fight scenes)゜・* ・゜・notes: this work has multiple chapters! also cross-posted on my ao3 <3 title is from a song called "fly away" by jang yoon ju.゜・*

chapter 1: white strawberry and mint. ・゜・chapter content: bashing/washing, brief mention of drug. ・゜・word count: 1,268 ♡masterlist♡

“Tch, stop squirming so much will you?”

"That's easy for you to say, you took my last xanax!"

Peter, very much irritated, decides to ignore those words as he drags the washcloth down your spine. You really thought Glory's greatest asset would want to be stuck here babysitting a grown-ass woman in her early 20s, huh? You'd better fucking think again; with how bizarre this unconventional live-in assignment has been and is still going, Peter's mental gymnastics constantly blow hot and cold between wanting to protect you and wanting to strangle you. Anything to make your perpetual complaining go away, honestly. But as nice as the thought of making you shut up for good, the Cathedral's order to keep you safe is final, and he is but loyal to the organization that made him the powerful man he is today.

So the Apostle sucks it up, a sigh leaving his lips as one big hand closes a little tighter around your waist.

"You're recovering," Peter continues, the authority colors his tone even as his touch on your soaked back is undeniably gentle, "and the last thing I need is another headache of you OD'ing over off-label pills."

You let out a sound that falls somewhere between a gasp and a yelp. "I'm not an addict, ok?" That half-assed excuse almost has Peter rolling his eyes in pure frustration, his displeasure threatening to bubble over when you flounder on his lap like a fish out of water. "They're just my sleeping aid-"

“Aid or not ,” he cuts you off mid-sentence, “it doesn’t change the fact that you pop three xans per meal and barely function without them.” The last of his impatient reprimand is accompanied by foam-covered linen spreading the Olay body wash over the skin of your belly. Peter’s nose crinkles slightly at the sickening sugary scents of white strawberry and mint that assault his nostrils, but the man decides to keep his mouth shut.

And much to his surprise, so do you.

He’s relieved at your lack of resistance, or at least no more bitter remark. A huff leaves your lips, then nothing. Good, the Apostle is sure if this goes on, he’ll be scrubbing your wrinkly skin raw. Peter sets the washcloth aside and grabs the shower head, aiming the lukewarm stream of water at your body and clearing away the bubbles and remaining grime.

The water sloshes underneath your body as you draw up your legs; the tub isn’t small by any means, but Peter is aware of his size and how his large stature might be a little suffocating to you in terms of space. His grasp on your waist loosens, wanting to speed things up so you both can get out of here quicker. Yet the second the soap on your skin is washed away, the guy can't help but let his eyes linger on the scar on your lower thigh.

"What?" Peter hears you huff again, sounding uncomfortable despite your nonchalant expression. One of your hands moves down to conceal the healing wound, even if through the little cracks between your fingers, he can still make out the pinkish scar tissue.

"How are you feeling?" It's a genuine concern on his part.

"Um," your hesitation doesn't escape his notice, even palpably so when you start shifting awkwardly between his legs. Peter just wants to make sure, but he has no problem with dropping the topic if it irks you. That is what he thinks, but you finish the sentence, "better?"

So it doesn't hurt anymore, at least not as badly as it used to. The man lets out a low hum, then turns his head to hang the showerhead into its wall-mount bracket.

"No hair wash?" Are you serious right now? Peter rolls his eyes for real—an act he's very much acquainted with in the past six weeks living here—before facing you.

"No hair wash," there you go again with that annoying pout. Really makes him wonder how the hell you two are the same age, "I won't have you lazing around in here for more than 30 minutes."

Sensing an upcoming brainless argument, the raven-haired assassin stands up and walks out of the bath, taking you with him. He promptly ignores the way you yelp when one right hand grazes a ticklish spot on your nape to keep you still, instead reaching for two towels sitting on the sink. Peter wraps one of them around his waist and focuses on patting you dry with the other. There's a bored look on his face while you just stand there, grumbling under your breath about how you can do this on your own. Brat.

"Put this on." He draps the towel over your shoulders and hands you a fresh set of clothes for the night. Only when you take them does he start putting on his own; a moment of silence follows, save for the rustling of fabric. It’s oddly calming, and even though he has used to going through days without a wink of sleep, Peter feels his eyes getting droopy as he puts on his grey hoodie; the day’s exhaustion finally catching up.

You let out a yawn, putting your hand on his shoulder for support while you slip on a pair of cotton slippers. Now he just has to wait for you to finish up.

“Hey, Peter…”

“Hm?”

The guy looks over his shoulder when you call out his name. This time, you don’t meet his gaze, instead staring down on the floor as you scrawl with one foot.

”Sorry for my mini tantrum earlier.” You gulp, and was that shame he just heard? ”You were just trying to do your job…”

Peter cocks an eyebrow. He isn’t mad at you, per se—the smirk on his lips giving away his rare playfulness—more like the usual light-hearted annoyance (that makes him want to choke you due to how stubborn you are sometimes, but that’s out of the question). You’re still 97% better than most people the Apostle had encountered in his line of work, and that is to say out of the other 3% he didn’t fumble (or kill), you’re the girl who happens to fit the closest to society’s definition of normal.

Not that he cares about what people think, anyway.

“A-And I acted out like a child…” He’s half-expecting another sorry, but you keep your head down in silence. You must be waiting for his answer then, so the guy decides to give you an easy way out; the further teasing comment that is about to leave his mouth can be saved for another time.

”Aside from the occasional migraines you gave me,” Peter smiles, putting a hand on your head as he starts ruffling your hair. "you're not too bad yourself. Apology accepted."

You mirror his mirth, though only for a brief second. Schooling your expression into a mask of faux frustration, you huff and try to pry his hand off. “Right right, now stop would ya? You’re gonna mess up my hair!”

Again, sleep comes first. As fun as it is to taunt you, Peter needs to get you to bed. Tuck you in… is that what it is called? The Apostle mentally cringes at the term; Father Gabriel really did land him into babysitting his niece.

“Right… let’s go.” He settles for giving your head one last pat before motioning you to walk towards the door connected to your bedroom. The distance is short, but Peter knows you’ll be there when he turns around.

Tomorrow will just be another day.

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thefandomsfervent · 28 days ago

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Personal Pigments Viktor x Reader (Part 2) - Burnt Umber

Find the premise and first part of the fix here. Find my imagine that inspired it here. Thank you for reading <3

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

An enforcer led you down the long hallway. Your footsteps echo out of time with his. You were supposed to have met with the Dean two hours ago but Piltover’s council had a meeting that ran long. You can’t imagine the stress of all those titles, yet it still irks you that he barely spoke to you before passing you off to an enforcer promising to “be there in the turn of a cog.” Something about the enforcer’s gruff sigh tells you he must say that a lot. The air of the hallways seems still, and you can’t tell if your nervousness is what puts an eerie feeling on your walk or the lack of people. For a city of progress, you figured the Academy would have more bustling inside the walls. But you do appreciate the peace, hands tracing the spine of your portfolio as you follow alongside the man in blue.

“Is it usually this empty?” You chance the question.

“Mm, it’s break season ma’am. You’ll see more people in a couple weeks.” Right. This was technically a school. Students would be making up most of the populace.

“Do you enjoy the quiet?” Small talk attempted.

“I do.” The same sigh he let out in the Professor’s company follows the two words. Small talk denied.

You hum in acknowledgment, tightening your grip on your portfolio. The awkward silence that follows is broken up by sounds of boots on tile, someone ahead of you. Another enforcer by the looks of it, she glances at you before giving your guide a terse nod. He returns the gesture before slowing his pace in front of a door. He waves his hand towards it and starts walking away.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the Dean?” Mostly you just didn’t want to be left alone in this huge building for another hour if the Dean loses track of time again. Another sigh, much more exasperated than the last two. He turns around to face you, annoyance on his face.

“The Dean,” he practically hisses the word, “will be here eventually. Do not wander, just wait here.”

You just nod as he turns around again. Damned enforcers. This day is off to a wonderful start. He goes around a corner a dozen feet away and you drop your shoulders. You didn’t realize that your jaw was clenched either, opening your mouth to unflex the muscle. After waiting about ten minutes and not seeing anyone the annoyance of the day settles in your feet. You’ve kept an eye on either end of the hallway and go to lean against the wall when you realize the lab door isn’t fully shut. The locks are half jutting out, keeping one door barely propped open. You knock on it, hoping someone was in there. For company to pass time with, or to at least introduce yourself to the duo you were hoping to spend the foreseeable future with.

“Anyone in there?” You say against the crack in the door. Nothing. The doors are heavy though, and you half wonder if anyone could even hear you. Tucking your portfolio under one arm you reach for the handle and give it a tug. Like it takes convincing, it takes a moment before it moves.

“Hello?” Your voice isn’t loud but it startles the man inside, a head of fluffy brown whipping up from his work.

“Who are you?” The man is sitting at a desk and abruptly stands, reaching for a cane propped up next to him.

Viktor hears those heavy doors open, and he’s expecting Jayce. Heimerdinger or even Councilor Medarda would have been expected over this person in front of him. You don’t have time to give him a reply before a voice answers.

“This is Miss L/N. It seems I’ve lost track of this particular project, but she’ll be here to work with you boys.” Heimerdinger shuffles in behind you and Jayce behind him.

“What? With all due respect Professor we don’t need more minds for Hextech. Viktor and I have it covered.” He walks past you and stands next to Viktor. The lithe man nods curtly.

“You misunderstand me, she is here in accordance with a collaborative project with the Arts Institute.” The yordle turns to face you. “I am sorry my dear, I was supposed to have briefed them days ago, but as you know a scientist’s mind can be full of conclusions just waiting to be reached. We do not always fully think about the paths to get there.” He gives the two men a knowing look and you offer a small smile in return. “Perhaps you could explain it better.” He gestures to your portfolio still tucked under your arm.

“Yes, I, uh,” You reach for it, fingers undoing the string that keeps it shut. “Your Hextech invention has sparked a lot of conversations across Academia as I’m sure you know. So much that it reached the Arts Institute. It seems that the Academy has been looking for a new art hall, several of my peers are meeting with your best students and researchers here.” You gesture to a relatively clean table with a “May I?”

Viktor just looks at you but Jayce nods and Heimerdinger finds a step ladder to stand on. You begin to remove several papers from the carrier you’ve brought with you. A few blueprints of a new art hall, some letters from the Academy and from the Arts Institute, and finally some of your work.

“The idea is the artists will make entirely new pieces for the gallery hall that’s to be unveiled at an eventual Progress Day, to do that we stay close with the scientists. It’s thought of as both an experiment and a hopefully beneficial relationship.” Viktor steps closer, cane tapping lightly on the tile of the lab floor. He picks up one the blueprints, his amber eyes scanning them over before handing them to Jayce.

“And what exactly about this relationship would be beneficial?” He asks, he is looking over the letters now. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you that he hasn’t even looked at the art you’ve brought with you, or really you for that matter. Jayce is still looking over the blueprints when you answer Viktor.

“Mixing the Arts and Sciences, new ideas for both groups? On a larger level it helps both schools with funding and connections. It can help smaller artists get out there, being in an Academy art hall is huge and can get them connections to very profitable commissions and galleries. As for you inventors, it can memorialize you and your accomplishments. It gives your work a face! Er, well, faces in this case.”

“We have no need for this,” he’s shaking his head. ‘Hextech is to better lives, not be some glorified art project.” he flicks the corner of a letter. The dismissal stings, but you know something he doesn’t.

“I am sorry my boys, but it is a non negotiable! Hextech may be to better lives, but it has caught a lot of attention. This is only the first step to controlling its image in a public way. You boys will be doing more dinners and speeches and galas and the like. It comes with the territory, trust me.” You notice he gesticulates a lot, and it's honestly endearing. His small fur covered hands moving around with one finger in the air.

“The sentiment is appreciated, Professor, but what does Art have to do with us or Hextech.” Jayce asks as he puts the blueprints down and takes the letters from Viktor’s hands.

“Art and Science have always mixed!” You do your best to subdue the frustration rising in your chest. “Take fractals, golden ratio, your craftsmanship starts with craftsmen. Surgeons learned how to create sturdier and safer stitches from fiber artists. If what the Dean has told me is true, you both should know better than anyone that sometimes an extra perspective is all that it takes for an idea to shine.” Heimerdinger gestures to your work with both hands, nodding his head encouragingly. When they both start looking at the pictures of your larger paintings and the smaller scale sketches on the table you try to keep speaking with the same confidence.

“As you may have read in the letters, it’ll also be good to secure you more investors. You guys are going to need promotional materials as well. Not everyone who wants a piece of your pie can make the journey to Piltover but they want some of it regardless. It can be expensive trying to make progress, adding your faces or prettying up proposals can help secure that. Council support is one thing, but you also need the support of people.”

They still haven’t said anything, just sharing looks as they spread the images out on the table.

You wring your hands together behind your back. This is stressful, and you’d like to go back to the institute soon. “To be honest with you, I’m one of several candidates to do your painting. If you don’t like my work, my style, what have you, I’ll leave. But someone else will be back to bother you two at some point about it.”

A silent beat passes, and you’re wondering if the walk here was even worth it. Eventually they both lift their heads from the table and Heimerdinger leans towards them expectantly. You try not to do the same. Jayce looks at Viktor and the pale man gives a simple nod. He turns to you, and what he says has you sighing in relief.

“What do you need from us?"

╚═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╝

---------------.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ Part 1-.-Part 3.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .----------------

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

#this is going to be a SLOW burn #y'all here me out #i yearn for this man #he will be YEARNING #also #who designed all that promo material of jayce.#more on this later in the fic #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #arcane #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #cross posted on ao3 #fem reader #viktor my beloved #viktor x reader #viktor x you

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janiehellion · 5 months ago

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Under The Radar

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: After the fall of Hershel's farm and Rick's revelation about the Wildfire virus, the group finds temporary refuge near Elders Mill Road. All the while you share a secret relationship with Daryl that often threatens to get you both caught. But when the stress of survival becomes unbearable, how far would you really go with your teasing to find some much-needed relief?

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: S2E13—ʙᴇꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʏɪɴɢ ꜰɪʀᴇ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / TEASING / FINGERING / SEMI-PUBLIC / ORGASM CONTROL / ORGASM DENIAL / PRAISE / LANGUAGE

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.232

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Written for @itwasntaphasema because she's the very first person who requested to be on my Tag-List!

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You were sitting around the fire near the waterfall of the Elders Mill Road, the current makeshift campsite after Hershel's farm was overrun and got destroyed by a walker herd, with the group eating whatever rations you all could find and trying to cling to some normalcy after Rick had revealed that you're all infected. Only Daryl sat apart from the rest of the group, like he did most of the time. He had claimed a spot on the edge of the fire, leaning back against one of the stone walls, his crossbow beside him as always.

You sat near him, your body leaning towards the fire, but your eyes kept drifting to him every now and then. You and Daryl had a secret that the rest of the group didn't know about—a relationship, or rather, so far you were just sleeping with each other, since neither of you had fully acknowledged that it was anything more than just sex.

As the group talked, your mind was only half on the conversations happening around you. You were more focused on Daryl.

Glenn, meanwhile, was talking about the latest supply run, since you were currently stranded and needed supplies, before finding a place that'd finally keep you safe. "We had to fight our way through a whole bunch of walkers," he said, gesticulating wildly around. "I thought that was finally it—the actual end—but we made it out! To be honest, it wouldn't surprise me if those walkers were from the horde, you know?"

Lori nodded. "My god, we're glad that you got back safely."

She was sitting next to Rick, holding Carl close, who was by now already sleeping in her arms. "Just another day in this nightmare. I hope we won't stay here for much longer. The baby—"

You took the opportunity of everyone else talking, moving quickly closer to Daryl as the conversations around you continued. "Hey, Daryl," you whispered. "I’m feeling a little bored right now, you know?"

Daryl stiffened slightly but didn’t turn to look at you. "Yeah? And why’s that my problem now?"

You bit your lower lip, trying to hide a smirk. "I’m not sure. Maybe I just need a little distraction. I really don't know. I mean, with all that stress lately. We barely made it out alive, ain't that right?"

You reached out, letting your fingers slide along his leg. Daryl’s muscles tensed under your touch, and he moved away a bit, his eyes narrowing. "What’re ya doin’, woman?"

Your hand reached out again and traveled even further up his thigh, just close enough to make him feel uncomfortable but not enough to really provoke him. "Just checking out if you’re as bored as I am."

Daryl moved again, his eyes looking toward the rest of the group to make sure no one was paying attention. "Ya should know better than to be messin’ ‘round like this. ’Specially after all the shit that's happened."

You let your fingers on his leg for a while longer before pulling back. "I know. But it’s always kinda hard when you’re so close."

As the conversations around the fire continued, you leaned closer, but he remained stoic, his eyes locked on the fire.

Meanwhile, Glenn looked over to the both of you. "Hey! Are you guys alright over there?"

"Yeah," Daryl grunted, not really listening to the question. "‘S fine."

You couldn’t help but smirk at his more than obvious discomfort and moved even closer, your shoulder pressing against his strong arm. "Come on, Daryl. A little bit of fun never hurt anyone. It would do us both good, don't you think? A little stress relief."

"Shut it. Ain’t the time or place," he answered, pushing you away slightly.

"Are you sure about that? Because it seems like the perfect time and place to me," you pouted back at him.

Daryl snorted and finally turned his head to the side, his eyes meeting yours in a moment where he was sure no one else was looking at neither him nor you. "Yer really fuckin’ pushin’ it right now."

The rest of the group continued to talk, seemingly oblivious. T-Dog, who was chatting with Hershel meanwhile, glanced your way every now and then in hopes that you would join the conversation, but he didn’t seem to notice anything.

You took the chance again when everyone was looking away and let your fingers brush along Daryl's neck this time, gently letting your fingertips slide up towards his earlobe. "Come on! What’s the matter, Daryl? Afraid of a little attention after all the stress?"

"I ain’t afraid of nothin', woman," he answered, gritting his teeth. "Hell, just stop and be normal for once."

You giggled quietly, your lips now brushing against his neck. "Normal? You mean normal, like how we’re pretending there’s nothing between us and how we're simply normal friends? Oh, wait, the rest of the group doesn't even know that we're friends, or… the real reason behind this so-called friendship. What a shame," you teased him further.

Daryl looked around the campfire, making sure everyone was still engaged in their conversations. "Ain't nothin' and ain't the damn point either. Now, shut it."

You leaned in closer to his face, your lips almost touching his. "Or what? You’ll get mad?"

Daryl’s focus crumbled a bit, his breath coming out faster. "Yeah, or I’ll do somethin’ you’ll regret."

You smirked, your hand sliding down to rest on his thigh again, your fingers brushing dangerously close to his growing bulge. "Well, that’s not really a threat, you know… Threatening me with a good time like that. So scary…"

Daryl’s eyes narrowed, and he grabbed your wrist, his grip strong but not painful. "‘M serious. Knock it off."

You pulled back slightly, putting your hands up innocently. "Okay, okay. I’ll behave. For now…"

Daryl’s expression remained annoyed, his eyes looking back to the fire as if trying to distract himself.

But the uncomfortable tension between you and him only grew as the time went by. Every little touch of your hand against his, your playful eye contact—simply everything increased the tension between you.

T-Dog, who had been looking around while talking to Hershel, finally spoke up as well. "Everything alright?"

Daryl shot him a glare, clearly frustrated. "Just fine! Said it already."

"Oh, we’re just having a little discussion. Don't worry," you smiled sweetly before leaning closer again. "You know, I can’t help but wonder if you’re really as tough as you pretend to be."

"What the hell are ya playin’ at?" Daryl asked and shot you a quick glance.

You tilted your head, your lips brushing against his jaw. "Just wanting to see how much a certain tough guy can actually handle."

He shivered uncomfortably, his eyes moving around to make sure the rest of the group was still talking with each other. Carol had fallen asleep next to Beth, and Glenn and Maggie were deep in discussion about their next supply run.

You took your chance, and your hand slid up Daryl’s thigh once more, this time brushing against the growing bulge in his pants on purpose. "I can see that you want this just as much," you whispered.

Daryl’s breath hitched, and he gulped. "Ya need to stop this shit."

You moved closer, your lips kissing his ear. "Or what? You’ll do something about it?"

"Yeah, or I’ll make ya regret it," he answered, moving his knees a bit more to his chest.

Your fingers still moved teasingly over the bulge in his pants before pulling back. "Come on, Daryl. Don’t be so boring."

Daryl’s patience was slowly breaking, and he growled at you. "Yer pushin’ it. This ain’t the time or place for ya damn games. Told ya that already. Can't ya just listen?"

You smirked at him, leaning in closer, your lips brushing against his neck again. "But that’s what makes it exciting, doesn’t it? Come on, just a quick stress relief."

His control finally snapped, and he grabbed your wrist roughly, his voice low and angry. "Goddammit, stop this bullshit, woman!"

You tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. "Why? Are you afraid of what’ll happen if you let go and show me what you can do, right here and right now?"

His eyes darkened, and he pulled you closer, his voice rough and harsh. "Ya wanna play dirty? Fine. But don’t think I won’t make ya pay for it."

Meanwhile, Rick glanced over too, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the whispering between you and Daryl. "Everything alright over there?"

Daryl smirked annoyed, his grip still tight around your wrist. "Goddamnit, can ya'll stop askin'? 'S all fine!"

Rick’s eyes remained for a moment longer on the both of you before he turned back to keep a watchful eye on the surroundings. As the night wore on, more of the group began to drift off to sleep. Maggie fell asleep by now as well, snoring quietly, just like most of them, while cuddling up to Glenn. The remaining watchmen, including him and Rick, were still alert, their eyes scanning the woods and the street beyond the light of the campfire.

Unable to hold back, you took advantage of the situation once more, teasing Daryl with your touch. "Come on, Daryl. I know you want this."

His eyes narrowed. "Yer really fuckin’ pushin’ it." He shoved you back slightly, his voice rising a little in frustration. "The hell is wrong with ya? Can’t ya see that yer makin’ a goddamn scene?"

You looked around, realizing that the remaining people on watch were still close enough to notice most of what was happening around the camp. You lowered your voice, trying to ease the situation for him. "I’m just trying to have a little fun. You’re the one making it difficult, not me."

Daryl’s expression was clearly angry by now, but there was also something else—something that almost looked like desperation. He reached out and grabbed you by the shoulders, his grip tight. "Ya think this is a game? Yer just makin’ shit worse for both of us, woman."

"I’m not trying to make things worse. I just want you," you answered him quietly, looking into his eyes.

"Yer really testin’ my damn patience." Without waiting for a response, Daryl pulled you roughly towards the edge of the light that came from the campfire, away from the eyes of the group.

"Hey! Where are we going? What are you doing? It's not safe to go away from the fire just like that! Daryl?" You asked, but Daryl didn’t answer immediately.

He dragged you behind one of the other remaining stone walls, away from the light of the fire but still within earshot of the camp. His grip on your arm was almost painful by now, and he shoved you against the side of the wall before he leaned in. "Ya wanna play dirty? Fine. Let’s see how ya can handle it."

You gasped as Daryl’s strong hands grabbed your face and as his lips crashed down on yours with a hunger that made your head spin. His hands slid down your sides, pulling you roughly against him, his body pressing against yours with force, and you could feel his hard cock pressing against you through his pants.

His fingers moved lower, finding their way to your inner thighs and guiding you to spread your legs just enough for him to get what he wanted. The sudden contact with your soaked panties made you flinch and moan against his mouth, your hips bucking into his touch and grinding against his hand, making you open your pants as fast as possible.

"Yer always so fuckin’ needy," he growled against your lips. "Can’t even keep yer hands off me for one damn second. Can’t resist the way I make ya feel."

"Oh, fuck!" You moaned again into the kiss, your hips instinctively arching towards his touch again as his fingers pressed against your clit through the fabric. "Daryl, please," you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

He pulled back slightly, his lips just inches from yours as his mouth curled into a smirk. "Please what?" He demanded. "Ya want me to fuck ya right here, right now? To give ya what yer beggin’ for?"

The way he spoke, the way he teased and controlled you, made you whimper in desperation.

He leaned in closer. "Or do ya need me to make ya beg a little more? To make ya show me just how much ya need me?"

Daryl’s expression hardened as he felt how you squirmed against him. He quickly reached out for your panties, pushing them aside, and without any hesitation, his fingers slid inside you, moving with an aggression that took your breath away.

You gasped, biting down on your lower lip to stifle a loud moan as his fingers worked inside of you ever so roughly. "Keep it quiet," he ordered harshly, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying an unmistakable authority. "Don’t wanna wake up the whole damn group."

You nodded, struggling to keep quiet as your body responded to his every touch. His fingers moved inside you, each thrust deeper than the last. His thumb found your clit, rubbing against it in a way that made you see stars, and his free hand gripped your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh to hold you steady.

"Daryl," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Please…"

Please… Please… Please, what?" He smirked, slowing his movements to drive you wild. "Ya want me to stop? Make ya wait?"

"No," you gasped in desperation. "Don’t stop! God, don’t stop, please!"

"That’s what I thought." He increased the pressure on your clit, his thumb moving in slow circles that made you tremble, while his fingers curled themselves inside your pussy.

Your hands reached for his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you tried your best not to fall as he made you a trembling, desperate mess.

"Yer not cummin’ yet. Not until I say so," he whispered as he felt how close you were, and you nodded frantically.

Daryl continued to tease you, driving you to the edge again and again, only to pull back at the last moment. "Good girl," he murmured. "Ya don’t get to cum until I let ya."

You nodded again, even though your body was shaking with the effort to hold back and obey his every command.

"Fuck, Daryl," you pleaded in a whisper. "Please, please, just."

He smirked, holding you close still. "Not yet," he growled, his fingers not slowing down.

Your hips bucked against his hand, but he continued with his teasing. "Ya really like that, don’t ya? Ya’ve been teasin’ me, and now look at ya. So fuckin’ desperate for me."

You nodded, unable to form words, your hands gripping and scratching his shoulders. It was becoming more and more difficult to control your moans, each thrust of his fingers pushing you closer to the edge.

"Hell. Yer such a needy little slut," he growled, teasing you further. "Can’t ever get enough, can ya?"

You couldn’t answer him anymore. Your body was trembling, your breathing ragged as you fought to hold back your cries. His mouth was now trailing down your neck, his teeth biting your flesh and sucking on it until you were panting with need.

"Look at ya," he murmured against your skin as he left his marks. "So desperate. So fuckin' wet. So ready to cum for me."

His free hand slid up your body, grabbing your breast and squeezing it roughly, his thumb flicking over your hardened nipple. "Daryl, please," you begged again, your voice a broken whisper. "I'm already so close! Fuck! I need to cum. Please!"

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he leaned in close, his lips kissing and biting your cheek as he whispered, "Cum for me, darlin'. Now…"

The command was your undoing. You obeyed, and your body convulsed with the force of your orgasm, but Daryl’s fingers continued to move inside you as you clenched around him, prolonging your orgasm until you were a trembling, breathless mess in his arm.

He held you close, and when you finally came down, your body still shivering, he pulled you into a rough kiss. "Such a good girl," he mumbled against your lips. "Ya did so good for me; keepin' quiet like that."

You nodded weakly, your mind still spinning from your orgasm as Daryl withdrew his fingers from you.

"Ya better be glad I ain’t lettin’ this shit go any further. 'Cause I wouldn't hold back anymore, ya know," he growled, and you nodded, your face flushed red and your body still trembling.

"I understand, I do. I just… needed you after what has happened at the farm," you answered him, adjusting your clothes.

"Ya got what ya wanted," he said. "Now keep yer damn hands to yerself before I lose my shit completely and fuck ya in front of everyone and take ya how I wanna take ya."

The warning was clear, but you could still see the struggle in his eyes to not take you right there in front of everyone else.

"Just remember," he continued, his voice sounding softer now. "Ain’t one for teasin’. Next time ya need me, ya better come to me straight; no damn games."

"I will. I promise," you nodded quickly, trying to steady yourself. "Let’s get back before someone notices…"

He nodded and walked in front of you as you followed him back towards the campfire, seeing the remaining members of the group settling down for the night. Daryl kept looking around as you approached, his eyes scanning the area.

As you neared the campfire, Rick suddenly appeared, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Where the hell have you two been?"

You and Daryl exchanged a quick glance, and you stepped forward, trying to sound casual. "I, well… I needed to use the bathroom. Daryl was just keeping an eye out."

Rick raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between you and Daryl. "Really? Didn’t think we had a bathroom around here."

"She just needed to take a piss, so what?" Daryl jumped in. "Figured it was better to keep an eye on her than let her wander off alone."

Rick’s expression was still skeptical, but he seemed to accept the explanation for now. "Alright. Just don’t make a habit of it. Especially not now. Not until we’ve found a safe place to stay."

With a nod, you and Daryl made your way back to your spots by the fire. The both of you sat down carefully, with you trying to ignore wetness that was still present between your legs. You watched as Daryl’s eyes moved to his own fingers, still coated with a bit of your juices. Without breaking eye contact with you, he slowly brought his hand up to his mouth, and his tongue slid out, moving slowly over his fingers as he licked them off once more. It was both humiliating and intensely erotic, making you shiver involuntarily.

Daryl leaned forward, his eyes still fixed on yours. "Remember," he said quietly, "this doesn’t mean ya get to act like a damn tease every fuckin’ time."

You nodded and grinned back at him. "Got it," you answered him, "but maybe, just maybe I should tease you more often every now and then."

TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema

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